Murdering of the Mind
by MycroftsAngelEyes
Summary: A new case for the team... a journey of pain and fear for a victim... a clash of good and evil... all for the sake of saving a mind. ReidCentric! Crossover - NCIS, Numb3rs and Criminal Minds! EPILOGUE UP!
1. Prologue

**CRIMINAL MINDS**

**MURDERING OF THE MIND**

**PROLOGUE**

"_**It's hard to imagine the possibility of being a prisoner of your own mind, of being caged by your thoughts. People don't seem to realise that intelligence, creativity and understanding can come at a price. I've never considered the possibility that I am a slave, a servant to my unyielding nature, to my suggestive thoughts, but the more I consider it the more possible – no obvious – it is that I am.**_

_**I don't really understand the nature of what I write of – my own nature -, perhaps that is because I don't wish to understand myself. Perhaps I wish to remain a mystery to myself, I don't want to understand why I think or feel the things I think and feel.**_

_**I guess that I'm writing all of this down with the hopes that someone will come across this, and understand what I am – what I'm afraid to know. If I'm lucky, someone will be reading this, maybe it'll help them some way – I don't know. In any case, at least someone will have taken the time to care..."**_

**...**

**...**

"Reid what are you reading?" Morgan called out to Reid across the small, cluttered room.

"It's a diary entry from someone, don't know who, but I think it might be from one of the Unsub's victims'." Reid replied rising from his crouched position by a small desk and thin sheet on the bare, wooden floor.

"What's it say?"Morgan asked wandering over next to Reid, careful to avoid the yellow evidence markers.

"Well whoever's written this thought that people who were intelligent, creative or understanding were, possibly, crazy, and that they might have been crazy as well" Reid muttered, handing the thin, paperback notebook to Morgan.

Without replying Morgan nodded and flicked quickly through the first few entries, only to find little of interest. "Well, we'll bag it and get it analysed" Morgan said looking at Reid. "Reid?"

But Reid didn't seem to hear or didn't acknowledge what he'd said as he'd discovered a small, printed book beneath a loose floorboard. Quickly and efficiently, putting his ability to read 20'000 per minute to good use, Reid read the small book pausing only when he had to turn the page.

"Hey Reid, you in there?" Morgan asked slightly bemused, he always found it strange how Reid could read so fast.

"Mmmm...what? Sorry, I was just..." Reid trailed off as he continued to read. His chocolate brown eyes flickering back and forth as he followed the lines of words along the small A5 pages, until there were no more words to read. "Strange..."

"What is? Reid man talk to me" Morgan said seriously, he was getting a little bit annoyed at the fact that Reid was contemplating something that might relate to the case.

"Oh, nothing really, it's just whoever was reading this book wrote in pencil and wrote a message on the pages" Reid muttered, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"What's the message?" Morgan pressed leaning over Reid to look at the faintly pencilled words in the margin of the pages.

"Errr... I think we should tell Hotch and the others first" Reid side-stepped the question "I think it's something we should all know at the same time." Without another word Reid stood and left the small, cluttered room and headed straight for the SUV parked on the street outside the small, one bed-roomed house on Eastland Avenue. A frustrated Morgan followed him quickly, quietly cursing the boy genius.

**...**

**...**

_**(The Hidden Message in the book)**_

"_**Do not be alarmed whoever is reading this intermittent message. I am only informing you of the fate that has befallen others and soon me as well. You must not show him fear you must not give in. Do what you must but do not surrender. You may be able to survive your fate. I wish you all the luck I can possibly spare. He will cause you more pain than you will ever know. He will make you cry and beg for mercy before he ends you. Do not cry and beg be resolute and say no. Stand up to the small petite man and show him that you are better than he. His torture will end when you give in. DO NOT give in and you may be saved. There is a team of people who are hunting him – the BAU – they may be able to save you if you can last long enough. He is sadistic and narcissistic – he takes pleasure from your pain, and pleasure from his 'obvious' superiority. Play his game for as long as logical and common sense would dictate your reactions. When the time comes to making a choice where if you choose to obey him he says you will live, and if you choose to be obstinate he will kill you, choose to be obstinate – you will survive longer than if you chose to obey."**_

**...**

**...**

"This girl is smart" Rossi commented on the message "she's profiled the Unsub and has explained it to the victims that she knows will follow her, showing that she's realistic and knows that the chances of her survival are slim."

"Yes, she's offering advice to future victims" Hotch muttered staring at the digital image of the message on the screen in the conference room of the NYPDs precinct.

"Well hopefully we'll stop this guy before there are any more victims" Emily said dryly.

"Does she give a description of the Unsub?" JJ asked walking into the room with Morgan and Reid right behind her.

"She's done one better; she did a sketch of him." Morgan said holding up a sketch of a man. "It was in the back of the book on one of the blank pages."

"Disclose it to the public and give the description to all police officers in New York" Hotch said looking at the sketch of their Unsub. It was surprisingly detailed and could have been a photograph that had been made to look like a sketch with one of those strange computer programs that Garcia probably uses. "This girl is extremely observant; the detail in this sketch is astounding."

"I think she might have either an eidetic memory or, she got to know the unsub's face so well that she was able to draw it simply from familiarity." Reid explained quickly, his voice naturally raising an octave or two and speeding up as he spoke.

"Well you have an eidetic memory Reid – which means you remember everything – and you can't draw to save your life!" Emily smiled as Reid frowned at her, his eyebrows knitting together in _that_ way.

"I'm not very artistic" Reid said indignantly still frowning at Emily.

"So, what, you can do statistical analysis easy but stick-figures are beyond you?" Emily asked smirking.

"What? No!" Reid said his voice rising even higher. He glared at Emily for a moment then pointedly ignored her "Hotch, I read the rest of the diary and I found out her name."

Hotch, who had been ignoring Emily and Reid's little discussion, turned to look at him his face serious "What's her name?"

"Katrine Quilks. She's an English citizen Hotch." Reid replied passing Hotch a small file on the girl. "She came to America to visit her aunt and uncle, but never arrived at their home."

"Least we have a name, all we need is a face" Hotch muttered more to himself than to Reid.

"I'll get Garcia to find a photo." Reid said as he turned and left the room to call on Garcia in her office.

**...**

**...**

"_**I think I'm afraid. It sounds strange to write but it's true. I don't know if I'm afraid. Crazy. I've been kidnapped against my will – not that you're usually for getting kidnapped I suppose – and I'm now awaiting the death that I know will befall me before anyone can get here quick enough to save me.**_

_**Anyway, that little random thought put aside, I have noticed that the room I'm in isn't very well lit. I'm going to see if I can 'convince' him to take the boards off the window so I can actually see the sunlight, I don't want to die without seeing the sun one more time. Funny really, I never really liked the sunshine but now that I'm faced with the prospect of never seeing it again, of never feeling its rays warm my skin with gentle caresses well it just makes me appreciate it so much more than I used to.**_

_**He's coming back. Sounds angry, I wonder what's got on his nerves? Oh that's it! Obviously! The BAU have been called in. This should be fun! That's sarcasm by the way – I don't want anyone thinking I'm a crazy psychotic person or anything. I've got to stop writing now, I haven't written what I wanted to though. Damn! I'll have to do it next time... when I'm allowed back out into this room – I really hate small, dark and dank cupboards that have NO LIGHT whatsoever!**_

_**Wish me luck...please."**_

**...**

**...**

"I feel sorry for this girl," Reid muttered quietly to himself, not noticing the others in the room with him were listening.

"Why Reid?" JJ asked him making him jerk his head up in surprise at her question.

He looked at her for a moment before sighing and answering her in a quiet and subdued voice, "It's just... she's so intelligent and she understands everything that's happening to her. She's realised that she won't get out of this alive but instead of becoming hysterical or begging for help she's doing what she can to help others... to help us! It's just sad that she's doing, or done, all of this and we didn't get to her."

The others all were silent as they considered what Reid had just said, he'd spoken the truth of the matter and they couldn't offer words of sympathy nor comfort for they had none to give. The only thing they could do was use what this poor girl had given them to their advantage and do what her last wish was; stop this Unsub from doing to another what he had obviously done to her.


	2. ONE

**ONE**

"_**I'm back from the dank cellar-like cage he so enjoys placing me within. I should've have told you the last time I had time to write to you what I wanted to say, but I got carried away so I do apologize for that. **_

_**I wished to tell you that he has been speaking about this BAU team, he was quiet fascinated with them before they were 'called in' – perhaps fascinated is not the right word, fearful may be a better term. He's been outsmarting the local police for the last few weeks and he knows them exceptionally well, he knows how they think and how they act so he's not at the disadvantage. But now that this BAU team are here he's got a problem. And a big one at that.**_

_**They're a greater challenge for him. I had asked him who the BAU were and after he had got over his initial anger at their presence, was more than willing to tell me of them. The Behavioural Analysis Unit. A team of Behavioural Analysts who specialise in creating profiles of Unsub's – the criminal – for local law enforcement to use to help capture the Unsub and to help save victims... like me.**_

_**All I can say of this is that I am glad they are here, they will be of great assistance to the police here and will hopefully stop this man from taking any more victims after myself.**_

_**Of course, one can only hope for the inevitable to be slowed for it can never truly be stopped. Can it?"**_

**...**

**...**

Reid sat down on the park bench and looked forlornly at the happy faces of the family-groups and congregations of teens on that fine winters day, with the sun shining and the sky being that clear, crystal-like blue that is normally hidden by layers of cloud and a polluted atmosphere.

Normally, on days like this, he would be smiling and seeing the innocent wonderment and joy that all those here were obviously seeing but today... today he just could not see it no matter how hard he looked.

His heart felt weighed down and leaden, his mind dark and clogged and his body tired and old.

He felt like this all because he knew that there was a girl out there who, like him, could not see the beauty of the daytime sunshine because she was locked away in the dark and he felt like he was also. He felt like he was letting her slip away, he felt like he was letting her drown in the huge lake of despair that she was fighting valiantly in but growing weaker with each kick and each heartbeat.

Sighing, he stood up from the bench and began the slow, depression-filled, walk back to the police precinct the team were based at. The BAU temporary HQ... a place where they had the profile written in black pen on large white boards, each word emboldened and able to stand out against the rest, yet can still not reveal the answers that Reid so desperately wanted. It was a cruel joke, an evil twist of fate for words to not tell _him_ what he needed to know...

**...**

**...**

"_**Well, I guess I've just got to keep on writing, smiling and not fall apart too noticeably... all of which is getting harder and harder to do. I'm losing my will to fight him, it's getting harder and harder with each passing session, but I'm not going to give in! I won't give in!**_

_**I won't give him the satisfaction of breaking me! Not now, not ever! And dear god I hope that when he finally gets bored of me and my naturally obtuse nature he won't go after another girl... please Lord do not let that happen! I'm begging you! Do not let another girl suffer the fate that I, myself, am being subjected to without care for my own wishes and aspirations... please!**_

_**He's now started talking, shouting really, to me during the sessions... it's only happened once or twice and I guess it's difficult for my brain to process what he's saying when it's being bombarded with synaptic responses from almost every nerve in my fragile body! But, from what I've been able to piece together of his seemingly incoherent screeching is that he believes I am a whore, a slag, a sinner and one that should be punished. I am dirty, I am unclean and unholy... you get the idea.**_

_**Either way, from all of that I've gathered that he's a religious nut who believes he's doing God's will via beating the hell out of me and God knows how many other women and girls. My guess is that he's snapped and gone a tad bit loopy – probably because of a divorce with his wife and she's ran off with the kids with the pool boy or something like that! **_

_**Dear Lord! I've just realised something... this is almost like a soap... this guy's life is that predictable! If it weren't for the fact that he's calling every insulting and derogative name in the dictionary, and the innumerable amount of beatings I've sustained over these past few months, I might actually feel sorry for the guy... which is truth actually. I'm not heartless, like most people I know presume I am, I just don't like to show my emotional response to things. Nothing more and nothing less. Just a personal preference.**_

_**Alright, I'm wasting both time and writing space blabbering on in this manner, I'm going to try and focus on only telling specific things from here-on-in... try being the operative word in that sentence of course.**_

_**Anyway, he's going to be here soon, he's always here just before sun-down. I now know when the sun is going to set thanks to him being so merciful as to remove two of the planks from the window which is more than enough to see out with but still too few for me to escape through. If only he'd taken one more off!**_

_**Good-bye for now my avant reader! I hope I shall be able to speak to you again so, I do so enjoy the time I have when doing this... it makes me feel like I'm not as alone as I once was."**_

**...**

**...**

Reid sat at the table in the large room they had been advocated, staring idly at the page where he had stopped reading. He couldn't bring himself to read anymore. Already he was finding it difficult to remain emotionally detached from this poor girl, but he couldn't be unfeeling about her.

She was intelligent and so, so very intriguing that Reid could not help himself when he had first picked up the book and read it, slowly, consciously processing the words, creating a voice to read them in his mind, to put a face and personality to this girl.

He envisioned her as being a quiet girl in school, she would not bring attention to herself, choosing instead to silently observe others from the background – clouded in shadow. She was quite the mystery to others, he could tell that from what little she had written of herself. She was obviously intelligent, that went without saying really, but she didn't let others know of her intelligence. She probably showed she was capable and smart but not as gifted as she really was.

Perhaps some form of modesty, or shyness?

She called herself obtuse, he found this to be one of the most interesting statements she had made about herself. If he was trying to 'break' her as she had put it, then perhaps it was because she was naturally stubborn, he may have a predisposition to any woman or girl who could be pig-headed. Perhaps?

He looked back at her previous entries, noting that she had an interesting way of writing and he absently wondered if she spoke in such a manner also. It could be a deciding factor for the Unsub when deciding his victims. Perhaps he dislikes women who are pig-headed and who speak as though they are superior; he considered this for a moment then decided against it. He doubted this girl would speak in such a manner to others purposefully, she disliked attention she wouldn't draw it to her with her speech-pattern. Perhaps then, it is how the Unsub perceives a woman's speech-pattern? Perhaps, he thinks that women who speak in the same manner as this girl do so to purposefully mock him? Maybe it relates to an event in his life when he was mocked by a woman who had a similar speech-pattern?

Maybe it was...

**...**

**...**

"_**I've always liked mathematics. I find the numbers therapeutic, they speak to me. I understand the complex equations that my maths teacher used to put on the board just to be spiteful, they were simple to me. **_

_**I could see the way they worked, what they could and did mean. I could see invisible strands connecting them together in parts and barriers in others.**_

_**Numbers just appealed to me... they always have done.**_

_**They appeal to me now... begging me to use them to escape, to get away and see the colours of the world again instead of this dull, muted and depressive grey that surrounds and suffocates me.**_

_**The numbers want to help me... but I don't think I want any help anymore."**_

**...**

**...**

Reid sat at the table in the room they were based in, staring intently at his pad of lined-paper. He willed himself to pick up the pencil next to it and to write what he was thinking, to put what he could see in his mind's eye into words that would be comprehensible to the others. He willed himself to do it... but his will wasn't enough.

He could find no way that he could devise to actually convey his thoughts to the others, his mind was too messy, too jumpy – flitting from one discovery to the next – and he just could find no way imaginable to organise it.

He growled at the paper and threw the pen down on top of it. He thrust himself out of the chair he was in and paced furiously up and down the length of the room, running his hands through his hair as he paced.

The team came in just in time to see Reid jump out of his seat and start to pace; they all secretly thought he looked completely demented. Morgan looked at Hotch and Rossi; who both agreed silently that Morgan was the best one to speak to Spencer, before walking over to Reid with an easy smirk on his face.

"Hey kid, what'cha doin'?" he said as he slipped into one of the other chairs and slouched down in it – his behaviour just screaming 'I'm-sooo-relaxed'. He watched as Reid stopped pacing long enough to give a quick assessment before continuing to pace.

"I'm fine," he said shortly, his voice gruff – an unusual sound for Reid – and contradictory to his current behaviour. "Just thinking."

"What about?" Morgan looked at Reid and watched as Reid struggled to put his thoughts into words, he sometimes felt sorry for the kid, he was always having to explain things to them in a way they'd understand – since they didn't all have P. and stuff.

"This... girl... she, Morgan... I... she profiles... so brilliantly... she's so... intelligent... and there's... no way... to save her..." Reid stopped all of a sudden, his pacing ceasing in an instant. He looked at Morgan wondrously, not really seeing him but some complex equation that organised his mind in seconds.

"I-I need to, to talk to someone... an old friend," Reid rapidly, he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, looked at his watch on his wrist for a second, muttering to himself, "He should still be there..." before dialling a number that was in-putted so quickly Morgan had no hopes of even guessing one of the numbers.

Reid turned and stared out of the window, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor, his free hand running through his hair again, muttering, "Pick up... pick up... _please_ pickup..."

The line rang once, rang twice, rang three times and rang a fourth before it was answered on the other end.

"Hello?" a voice said, sounding confused and curious.

"Charlie!" Reid exclaimed, a relieved smile breaking out on his face, "Oh god Charlie, you have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice!"

"Spencer... Reid?" Charlie said incredulously, "Is that you?"

"Yeah, listen Charlie could you give me a bit of help. I've got an idea that I need a bit of your help on." Reid said hurriedly, his voice speeding up to the point where Morgan and the others were having difficulty understanding each word.

Charlie however, had no such impairment for he spoke just as fast, "Sure, I'll help you Spence but tell me quick what it is that you need help with."

"Right, we've got an Unsub who's kidnapping and killing teenage girls, I thought I saw some sort of pattern in his abduction and dump sites but I'm not you and I can't figure it out well enough, it's been on my mind all day and I could seriously use your help in figuring it out!" Reid said hurriedly, Morgan nearly fell off his chair when he heard Reid say he needed help – the kid was a _genius_ for god's sake! Who else could he go to for help?

Charlie answered him after a moment's consideration, "I'll help you Spence. Where are you exactly and what type of data do you have?"

"Well you're in LA and we're not too far away from there, in San Fernando. I don't know if you've heard anything about this at all," Reid answered still looking out of the window.

"No, it didn't have anything to do with us, but I'm guessing the local police force asked you guys?" Charlie answered on the line.

"Yeah, they did," Reid answered, he frowned slightly when he heard distant shouting on the line, "Who's that shouting?"

"Oh," Charlie sounded sheepish, "That's Don, he's a bit annoyed. The Director just took the case off him, oh man... he's not going to be in a good mood for a while."

"Can't expect him to be though, "Reid answered. "Anyway Charlie, I'll send you the data and hopefully you'll succeed where I failed. Bye."

"See ya Spence," Charlie said before ending the call.

Reid closed his cell phone and shoved it back into his pocket before turning around to the team who were all staring at him. "Charlie's an old friend, he helped me in Cal Sci. He's a top rate mathematician."

"What's this Charlie's last name?" Morgan asked, he felt slightly hurt that Reid had another friend.

"Eppes, his name's Charles Eppes." Reid answered Morgan.

"And you trust him with sensitive information?" Hotch asked quietly, his eyes filled with silent anger at Reid's recent action.

"He's got high level security, works for both the NSA and FBI regularly, so yeah... I trust him with sensitive information Hotch." Reid replied looking at Hotch, with a strange glint in his eye – something which took Hotch a moment to recognise in Reid – determination. Reid was determined not to back down, he was standing up for himself. That surprised Hotch, Reid was always so... submissive, he didn't really challenge anyone.

"Okay," Hotch said after a moment, "Let's hope he can help us."

**...**

**...**

Walking into the Bullpen, Gibbs looked over at Dinozzo, Ziva and McGee – all seated at their desks either doing work; McGee, Sleeping; Dinozzo or talking on the phone; Ziva.

He debated on whether or not to simply appear in front of them, giving them all a fright, or to let them know he was there. As he debated this McGee suddenly looked up and saw Gibbs.

"Boss?" McGee questioned looking at Gibbs, who silently cursed the fact that McGee was getting good at knowing when he was around 'I wonder if he has the CCTV in the room on his screen?'

"Gear up, we've got a case," Gibbs said as he walked over to his desk and placed his cup down, he turned to look at them and was happy to see McGee already had his bag and Ziva was ending her call and grabbing hers simultaneously. He looked at Dinozzo for a moment before going over to his desk and slamming his hand down on it, feeling satisfied when Dinozzo literally jumped and almost fell out of his chair. "Gear up Dinozzo!"

"On it boss," Dinozzo mumbled. He yawned and grabbed his bag as he sprang out of his chair.

Gibbs smirked slightly before going back over to his desk and picking up his coffee, "Ziva, you're driving. Tony, you're in back." he said before heading over to the elevator, not giving Dinozzo a second to argue. He knew that McGee and Ziva were following him – both with grins on at Tony's complaining – and a reluctant Dinozzo trudging along behind them.

He did so enjoy being the boss sometimes. He really, truly did.

"Er, Boss?" McGee said quietly as they stepped into the elevator, Gibbs looked at him and McGee continued, "What case do we have exactly?"

Gibbs looked at McGee for a moment longer before answering, "In Herber Springs, L.A there have been a series of kidnappings and murders of teenage girls, one of these girls was the daughter of an Admiral and we've been requested McGee."

McGee was silent for a moment, his mind processing the information that Gibbs had just given him. Dinozzo looked surprised by the request, "We're a bit of a distance from L.A though boss, why us?"

"Because the Admiral wanted the best, and he said that's us." Gibbs answered shortly, stepping out of the elevator when it pinged open and the garage spread out before them.

"Oh," Dinozzo muttered. "Why are we using the van? It'd take us weeks to get to L.A from here in it?"

"Don't be stupid Tony, we will be using the van to go to the airport and then we will take a plane to L.A, correct Gibbs?" Ziva rolled her eyes at Tony and stalked off when Gibbs nodded.

"But why can't we use the car to get to the airport?" Tony whined as he slowly walked over to the van.

"Because we'll probably need to take some of the equipment with us and Ducky's got a body coming in from the airport so this'll be used for transport." McGee answered, saving Gibbs the job.

"And you know that how McGeek?" Tony raised an eyebrow at McGee as he climbed into the front compartment of the van, after Gibbs.

"Because Ducky asked me to find the identity on our databases." McGee replied simply before slamming the door shut, leaving Dinozzo to clamber into the back of the van and attempt to find a safe place to lodge himself in whilst Ziva drove.

He'd barely shut the door though when Ziva started the ignition, put the van in drive and shot off out of the garage and towards the airport. All the while listening to Dinozzo's curses and shouts of surprise and pain.


	3. TWO

**TWO**

"Reid!" Hotch said as he walked into the HQ/police conference room of the BAU. "We've got NCIS coming here to assist in the case. Has your friend helped you yet?"

"No, not yet Hotch. He's driving up here with his brother and his team. They want to help." Reid answered, pointedly not looking at Hotch. Instead he kept his eyes glued firmly on the map he was looking at.

"Who's next? The CIA?" Hotch muttered quietly, but not quietly enough that Reid couldn't hear him.

"Well, I _do_ know one or two people in the CIA Hotch." he said quietly, trying not to laugh. He could easily imagine the glare Hotch was throwing his way. Of course, he didn't really need much imagination for _that_ task.

"Reid," Hotch growled quietly.

Reid managed to keep the smirk off his face when he answered, "Sorry."

Morgan came into the room then, followed by a group of people; one was a man with crazy, curly hair and a boyish grin on his face.

"Spencer!" The curly haired man exclaimed, he grinned at Reid and side-stepped Morgan in a heartbeat.

"Charlie, it's good to see you!" Reid said smiling, he stood up and ignored the glare Hotch was still giving him. A glare which one man from the group noticed. He frowned slightly wondering what the cause of it was.

"What was it that you wanted me to do again?" Charlie asked, as he looked with interest at the tacked-up map on the wall, his mind starting to conjure up a growing and evolving equation.

Reid raised an eyebrow as he watched Charlie silently for a second as he processed the visual data on the map before answering, "I need you to help me figure out where he is, where he takes them."

Hotch turned away from Reid and looked at the group in the room. He walked over and immediately identified the leader. He stuck out his hand and was rewarded with a firm shake from a brown eyed, short haired man.

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA Derek Morgan and Dr. Reid," He said, indicating to Morgan then Reid with his head. "You are?"

The brown eyed man said, "I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, this is my team. David Sinclair, Colby Granger and Megan Reeves." Don replied as each of his agents nodded to him whilst they were introduced.

"Reid!" Morgan called out, causing Don to look at him and the others too. "What the hell are you doing exactly?"

Reid looked up at Morgan with a sort-of deer-in-the-headlights look before managing to say something, "Charlie and I were just going to ermm..." he looked at Charlie for help.

"We were just going to add on some points and the odd equation..." Charlie trailed off avoiding looking at Morgan, or his brother.

"Do you think you could do that _without_ drawing on your faces?" Hotch asked, looking at them like they were two naughty school children.

"Err... yeah, sorry Hotch..." Reid muttered, both him and Charlie turning red in embarrassment.

**...**

**...**

Sitting in the private, NCIS jet – courtesy of Vance – Gibbs and his team were silent as the jet taxied down the runway and took off.

Gibbs looked at his team, wondering which ones would be affected by the take off, and was pleasantly surprised to see that, for once, it wasn't McGee who was gripping the seat arms but Dinozzo.

He suppressed a smirk at the turn-out and instead turned his head to look out of the window beside him. He idly wondered how the FBI would react to their presence, and briefly wished for Fornell to be the lead on the Fed-end.

McGee sat in the seat, relaxed and calm – flying had never bothered him really – and watched as the plane slowly rose up to the recommended height of a jet, a fair distance above the clouds, before checking to see if the seat-belt warning light had flicked off. It had.

Smiling slightly, he unbuckled his belt and stood, going over to the wall-attached table and sitting down at it. Gibbs looked at him with a raised eyebrow, to which McGee responded to, "We can move now boss, the belt light's off and we're high enough that we don't have to remain seated."

Gibbs nodded, secretly proud of McGee for not waiting to check with him if it were okay to move, before he unbuckled his belt and stood. He made his way over to the table and looked at McGee surprised when McGee pulled out a small computer-thingy and turned it on.

McGee looked up briefly and noticed Gibbs surprised look and so decided to answer, "I can use this on the jet boss, it's got a simple algorithmic program built in that allows it to be used in the air without affecting the plane's systems and radio frequencies." McGee started up the program interface that would allow him to access NCIS from the plane and typed in his high level security password – sometimes he truly loved working for Vance, the high level security was definitely useful.

Searching through the files on the database he found the ones that were in 'Team Gibbs' – a little joke that the I.T department had come up with – and found the case they'd just received today. He looked through the prelim and frowned sadly. As he read the detailed case report he looked through the list of FBI agents already working on the case and was surprised to see that they were the B.A.U agents.

"Hey boss," McGee said, Gibbs looked at him so he continued to speak, "The FBI agents on the case are from the B.A.U." At Gibbs blank stare he elaborated, "The B.A.U – Behavioural Analysis Unit. They're a group of supervisory special agents in the FBI who would with the police and other agencies when they're requested to help in cases of serial killers, rapist's etcetera. If they're working the case then we're going to be working with the local police force too."

Gibbs frowned at that, he sometimes hated working with the local cops; they always thought that they had all the answers and every right to the cases. He really hoped that this time round it would be different.

"I have heard of them," Ziva said quietly as she stepped round Gibbs and moved over to McGee to read the writing on the screen, "They stopped a terrorist cell, a serial killer who was making bombs and a few others that I have heard of. They are very good at what they do."

"They analyse behaviour Ziva! How good can they be? It's all just a load of guesswork!" Dinozzo exclaimed as he swaggered over to them. "It's not like they do the work we do!"

"No, they do not act like sulking children when they have to rid in the back Tony," Ziva smiled at him sweetly, he glared at her and McGee tried to keep the smile off his face.

He focused back onto the case file and read through the list of victims, "Oh God..." he breathed, his heart felt heavy for all those lost lives.

"What Tim?" Ziva asked looking at him and noticing that he looked... sad.

"This guy's killed nearly 14 girls..." he answered quietly, he looked at the names and felt like his heart was about to break in pain.

They were all silent for a moment, then Dinozzo said, "Bastard," and they all couldn't agree more.

**...**

**...**

"Okay, Agent Hotchner, who else is working on this case? Besides yourselves that is?" Don asked Hotch as they watched their respective teams get to work – but especially keeping an eye on Reid and Charlie, just encase.

"Well, we're working with the local law enforcement on this. A team from NCS will be arriving soon since one of the victim's was the daughter of an Admiral and your brother." Hotch replied, quite liking having a chat with another team leader who, to all others, seemed as grumpy as him.

"Well, I'm here for Charlie so my team can help out," Don replied, his tone of voice not really allowing for any arguments from Hotch.

"Alright, if both our teams can get assembled and quieten down, we can organise them into pairs and have them get working," Hotch said, his voice low and decisive.

Don nodded at him and they set about quietening their teams – excluding Reid and Charlie who were oblivious to either of their orders to shut up.

Don and Hotch stood side-by-side in front of their assembled teams and looked at each other for a moment before saying at the same time, "Since there are-" before looking once more at each other and Don signalled for Hotch to take the lead.

Morgan grinned discretely at Prentiss who hit him lightly on the arm. Colby and David both smirked at Don letting someone else lead – they were pleasantly surprised over the fact.

Hotch stood up fully and gave Morgan a look before speaking, "Since there are two separate teams here working on this Agent Eppes and myself have concluded that it would be a good idea if we all worked together. Morgan; I'd like you to accompany Agent Sinclair over to the Coroner's Office. Prentiss; if you'd go with Agent Reeves to the family of the latest victim and find out what you can about her. Reid..." Hotch looked over at Reid and Charlie and thought better of interrupting them. "JJ; could you set up a press conference so we can give a generalised profile to the public, and set up a public helpline. David; could you and Agent Granger go over to the latest crime scene and take a look at it, see what you can find out."

Everyone nodded at Hotch and once Hotch had finished speaking vacated the room, leaving only Hotch, Don, Charlie and Reid in there.

Hotch leaned lightly against the wall opposite Charlie and Reid and watched them silently. Don leant against the table in the room and was doing the same thing as Hotch; watching his brother interact with Dr. Reid and wondering if he's like this with Fleinhart. Somehow, he sincerely doubted that Charlie would try to doodle of Larry with a Sharpie marker-pen.

Hotch broke the silence, speaking quietly but not so quietly that Don wouldn't be able to hear, "I've never seen Reid act like this..."

"I've never seen Charlie act like this either. First time for everything right?" Don answered flashing a short grin that Hotch returned, "Why do you call him 'Reid'?"

"It's his name," Hotch answered with a raised eyebrow, what else was he to call him 'boy genius'?

"It's his last name, not his actual name. Why don't you call him by his first name?" Don pressed looking at Hotch directly.

Hotch was silent for a moment thinking of a reason, "I... I don't know. I've always called him 'Reid' as have the others," He looked at Don with a frown on his face, Don thought that it wasn't a new look for Hotch.

"So none of you have ever called him 'Spence' or 'Spencer'?" Don queried as he turned his head to look back at Reid and Charlie.

"Well, JJ's called him 'Spence' before and Gideon..." Hotch broke off, he'd been trying to avoid saying his name. He looked at Reid and Charlie and watched sadly as Reid dodged Charlie and his Sharpie pen with a childish grin on his face.

"Who's Gideon?" Don asked, he really was curious about who this guy was since Hotch had stopped speaking after his name.

"An old, retired member of the team. He used to make sure everyone knew that Reid was a Doctor, on account of his age," Hotch explained, his voice sounding solemn and his eyes sad.

"Oh, I can see why he made sure Dr. Reid was recognised as a Doctor," Don said quietly.

They lapsed into silence then, watching Reid and Charlie stabbing the map with the Sharpie pens as they figured something out. The only sound in the room was the impact of the pens on the map and the occasional giggle from either Charlie or Reid as they worked in unity to get the work done.

Don wondered about the entire B.A.U team, thinking about how they each seemed to call Agent Hotchner 'Hotch'... he figured it must be a nickname and probably easier to say than his full surname. He thought about Agent Prentiss, he knew that she was the daughter of some powerful people in the FBI and he idly wondered if her status was a point of contention in the B.A.U team. Agent Rossi, he knew was a legend at the FBI academy... he'd read a paper that he'd written back when profiling was pretty new and he remembered how he'd been impressed by it all. Agent Morgan, he didn't know much about, but the way he acted and spoke he guessed that he might have been a cop before a profiler – he had that demeanour about him. Agent Jareau – the one they called 'JJ' – was quite beautiful, probably a plus since she was their liaison with the press etcetera; the looks would come in handy in that department. But he didn't doubt that she knew how to use the glock that was in her hip holster. The only one that didn't seem to fit into the group was Dr. Reid. He knew that he was the youngest of them all and probably had the least amount of field experience – heck he'd probably had never fired a shot from his firearm – and he wondered if the kid was only there because of his brain. Maybe he was just a tool? It certainly seemed that way, especially with them all calling him 'Reid' – kind of impersonal really. It was like they didn't want to get too attached to him because they figured he was just temporary or didn't matter...

Or maybe they called him 'Reid' because they respected him? He reasoned that the kid had to be wicked smart since he was keeping up with Charlie's brain, so that meant that the B.A.U team might have a healthy respect for the kid because of that? He didn't know for sure but he hoped that he was right with this train of thought. He knew that those who were older than others were normally referred to by their last names – showed that they were respected – but he guessed that was also the same for someone who was smarter or better than someone else at something – same thing really just the criteria's different.

He opened his mouth to ask Hotch if that was why he called Reid by his last name but, before his could, a group of people entered the room with a grey-haired man in the lead. Hotch immediately stood up fully and addressed the newcomers with a lawyer-like manner, "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Special Agent Don Eppes. I suppose you're the NCIS team that is going to be working on this case with us also?"

The grey-haired man looked from Hotch to Don before answering, almost as though he was sizing them up, "Agent Leroy Gibbs, Agent Anthony Dinozzo, Agent Timothy McGee and Mossad Officer Ziva David." Gibbs said emotionlessly, each of his team nodded to Hotch and Don – except McGee who smiled.

"Now, where's the evidence?" Gibbs said simply, he turned slightly and raised a single eyebrow at Reid and Charlie who hadn't even noticed the presence of Gibbs and his team. "And who are they?"

Hotch and Don looked over at Reid and Charlie – both suppressing smirks – and Don answered, "That's Dr. Reid and Dr. Eppes. They work with each of our teams."

"Boss?" McGee ventured, his green eyes focused intently on the map that had some interesting designs on it.

"Go ahead McGee," Gibbs replied, he sounded amused but he didn't smirk. Dinozzo did though.

"Thanks Boss," McGee dodged past Dinozzo and over to Reid and Charlie.

"Great... a geek convention, Ziva!" Dinozzo muttered and Gibbs, unluckily for Dinozzo, heard him. Gibbs turned around swiftly and delivered a brilliant smack on the back of his head before turning back round to face Hotch and Don.

"Thanks Boss..." Dinozzo said quietly shooting Ziva a malicious dare as she smiled happily.


	4. THREE

**THREE**

McGee stood behind Reid and Charlie for a moment, silently observing them before clearing his throat and saying, "Errmm... I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee..."

Charlie and Reid both stopped stabbing the map and turned to look at McGee; each wearing their own quizzical version of a frown.

Reid looked at McGee for a moment thinking before saying, "Not Timothy McGee from MIT? Who graduated with near top marks!"

McGee, was obviously surprised by that and so raised a single eyebrow, "Err... yeah."

"Oh wow..." Reid said. "You're one of the few people who have ever graduated from MIT with such high scores! Amazing! I heard that the FBI wanted to hire you but they misplaced your paper work which is why you ended up at NCIS."

McGee didn't say anything but started to feel uncomfortable with Dr. Spencer Reid staring at him like he was a legend... he didn't think he was personally speaking. So he did one of the few things he was good at, he deflected and focused on the map.

"What are you working on here? I noticed from the other side of the room that it looks to be geographic profiling," McGee said as he moved a bit closer to the map and looked at the points on it and the colour coding tag next to it, "And I guess I'm right."

Charlie looked at McGee surprised before thinking happily that he now had someone else who understood what he was saying!

"Yes it is. We're locating the places where each of the girls were taken from as well as the dump sites of the bodies which should give us a general overview of the Unsub's residence; the area he live in." Charlie answered quickly, "We've almost finished placing all the points."

McGee nodded and looked back at the map, his mind already working. He thought about the case and about everything he could think of about the victims, he decided to ask something, "Do either of you know whether or not this guy stalks his victims?"

Reid looked at him whilst Charlie shrugged and went back to stabbing the map. Reid stopped and thought about the file he'd read, it didn't mention it but he couldn't simply assume that this Unsub didn't stalk these girls, "I don't know. In the case file it-"

"It doesn't mention anything about stalking _per say_ but is it possible that this _'Unsub' did_ stalk them but it wasn't overly _apparent_ at the time that these victim profiles were composed? Maybe he has military training or is naturally a creep I don't know, but it _is_ a possibility that he _did_ stalk them," McGee cut in speaking quickly, but lowly, and whilst staring at Reid, "which would mean that he'd have to have _somewhere_ where he'd have chosen _them_ in particular. Perhaps the local mall or shops or something._ Any_where where there are social gatherings."

Hotch, who had heard every word that McGee had just spoken, was silently impressed. He didn't know NCIS agents had more than basic profiling skills. He had tuned out the dialogue between Don and Gibbs, and had instead focused on what was being said between Reid, Charlie and McGee; and he was quite glad that he had focused on them. He walked over to them silently and said, in a voice that everyone in the room could hear, "I think you may be right Agent McGee."

McGee, who had had no clue that Hotch had heard a word he'd said, looked at him in surprise before blushing slightly. He nodded at Hotch who continued to speak.

"I think it would be a good idea if we went over the victims profiles and try to find out whether or not they all came into some sort of contact with each other. Maybe a place that they all frequented. I believe there is a Shopping Center around here that might be the common point of contact." Hotch said looking at the map, he placed his forefinger on the location of Sylmar Towne Shopping Center.

Dinozzo stood, with Ziva beside him, looking at McGee with a shocked look on his face. He'd always known McGeek was intelligent, _hello_ he _was_ an MIT graduate, but this was a surprise even for him. He _never_ would've guessed that McGee knew anything about profiling beyond _bad guy equals bad._

Ziva, much like Dinozzo, was surprised that McGee was being so upfront in all of this; she'd never really known him to be so 'look at me I've got the answer', yet that seemed to be what he was doing. Of course, Ziva knew that McGee some of understanding the concepts of profiling but she did not think that it would be of any use since they were to be working with a full team of profilers.

Gibbs, for the most part, simply watched this all in silence. He secretly felt proud that McGee was assisting the case with more than his normal technical skills but he did not wish for McGee to realise this fact; McGee needed to realise that was irreplaceable.

Don, didn't say a word, he instead watched in silence as the group of people in the room slowly congregated around the map with a simple show of interest. He glanced idly at the conference table that had a few files upon its surface and a small, _diary_? He frowned, who would have a diary in the middle of a police station?

He picked it up and idly flipped through the pages, taking note of the beautiful, calligraphy, upon each of the pages. He stopped for a moment to read one of the passages and was quite surprised by it.

**...**

**...**

"_**I suppose that I have managed to tell you all that I can at this present moment in time, which truly is a shame since I shall no longer have any real purpose for which to write. Regardless of this development, or perhaps conclusion, in my tale I must say that I shall continue to obtain whatever information I can of this beast but I suppose that the focus of what I will now be writing will most likely be my own observations of things; whether they be from this man or from the time before I became his unwilling captive.**_

_**I have always wondered on the honesty of mankind. I have noted that the world is full of deceit from those who are meant to instil trust and reassurance in the larger world populace. Ironic really isn't it? Those who I, like many others, are supposed to trust with my money – which in honest I do not have being a minor in this world – and with my freedom and human rights, but are not as honest as they first appear. They were suits made of fine material, crafted by the most skilled of tailors, custom-made to cover the cracks of their very souls as a rather fine veneer are designed to mislead us, to lull us into a sense of security, into the notion that they can be trusted by us when in fact they are the traitor in the midst of a rebellion, the coward in the ranks.**_

_**I do believe I have little time left with which to continue to write this entry; that pathetic, cowardly, narcissistic man will be arriving back shortly, he would not dare miss his prearranged appointment with my torture. Oh no, that would only serve to disappoint wouldn't it now?"**_

**...**

**...**

Don closed the book and placed it back upon the table with a sick feeling within his stomach. He tried, and failed, to not imagine the types of torture this _monster_ had inflicted upon the owner of this diary. He forced his mind to focus on the map and the conversation that had been happening while he was immersed in the memoirs of a lost cause.

**...**

**...**

"_**I wonder... is it normal to be able to understand how this man thinks? Is typical of a person of my age and lifestyle to be able to comprehend and rationalise the actions of a madman? Should I be concerned with such an ability? Should I fear that I will become a monster like this one that cages me? What should I do when I think of the other girls who have come before me and will likely come after? Should I feel like it's only fair, only right that they should suffer the pain that I have? Is that not sadistic? Is that not evil and cruel of me? **_

_**Are there others who have such an ability? Does it sicken and fascinate them in equal measure? Do they consider themselves to be 'freaks' and 'weirdoes or do they consider themselves to be superior to others?**_

_**Do they feel like this 'skill' defines them as a person? Do they believe that it will allow them grandeur, that it is a reason for them to be worshipped like some self-professed God?**_

_**Do I believe that? Should I believe that? Or should I believe that I am a social oddity? That many do not think and see as I do, do not take on another's thoughts and emotions as I do?**_

_**What should I think?**_

_**What should I believe?**_

_**Should I be sickened?**_

_**Or should I be awed?**_

_**Should I be considered superior?**_

_**Or should I be considered a freak?**_

_**What do you, who is reading this and most likely debating upon my sanity, think? Which viewpoint do you consider to be true and which to be false?"**_

**...**

**...**

Don shivered slightly as he placed the book down on the conference table again. It was getting dark out and he really should be heading back to the Craftsman to check on his dad but... he couldn't stop reading.

He had tried earlier in the day to forget about the diary; he had forced his mind upon other tracks, other paths yet it always returned to this one... to this diary...

He could remember the conversation that he and Agent Hotchner _"call me Hotch,"_ had had with the NCIS Special Agent; Gibbs.

He remembered the mutterings from the sea-cop, _"working with the FBI", "I'd rather have Fornell". _

He remembered the grimace on Hotch's face as he spoke, trying to keep his voice neutral of the frustration he felt with the sea-cop, _"We're working with the local police force, as I've already said... the BAU will not be taking the credit for this, or for the arrest and possible rescue of the latest victim..."._

He remembered how the sea-cop had looked at Hotch with a searching glare, he recalled how Hotch had held the gaze with his own intent stare, he remembered the feeling of intense tension in the air; like someone was anticipating an explosion...

He also remembered himself speaking, to try and calm the air down,_ "look, it's pointless getting into a dispute about who has jurisdiction... there's a killer out there who's killing young girls... maybe we should focus on that more?..."_

He shook his head as he rubbed a hand over his face, he felt exhausted; like this was the most trying case he'd ever had in his life... in many ways, he supposed, it probably was. He was wary of the B.A.U team, he didn't like the idea of being profiled but he knew they would do that naturally... the same way he does with a suspect to see if they're the guilty one... he just didn't like being on the receiving end of such a thing. He doubted any cop did.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head;

_'...one...'_, he heard the beat of his heart echoing in his ears;

_'...two...'_, he heard the ticking of the clock on the wall reverberating around the room;

_'...three...'_, he listened to the sound of fading horns and cars on the streets outside;

_'...four...'_, he felt his chest rise and fall in a constant rhythm, unyielding in its nature;

_'...five...'_, he felt the blood rushing about his body through veins and arteries and the tiny capillaries;

_'...six...'_, he let his mind drift, let it follow the ripples of the pond;

_'...seven...'_, his mind flashed upon the words he'd read in the diary of a dead girl;

_'...eight...'_, he felt his heart constrict as his mind mulled over the written words;

_'...nine...'_ he felt a tear slip from his eye and roll down his cheek, blazing a salty trail along his hot flesh;

_'...ten...'_, he opened his eyes and looked solemnly at the diary lain out before him.

He leaned forward in the chair he was in and picked up the diary, flipping it open and turning to a new entry; which he noted had a date.

**...**

**...**

"_**Wednesday, 2nd December 2009,**_

_**I have been his captive for over three months, so he happily allowed me a single wish; to know of the date. Today, is Wednesday. I have almost forgotten what a normal Wednesday is.**_

_**I can just recall spending Wednesday days in school, listening to the mute teachings of fascist pigs, listening to my friends during break and lunch, ignoring the orders from the fools to rein in my uniform and to conform... I miss it. I wish for myself to be back there, to be having the typical Wednesday defined by society... not this Wednesday that has now become the typical one for me in this new world I find myself trapped within.**_

_**I wonder, will someone ever find this dairy, will they ever truly care for me? Will they see me as a 'real girl' or just some long dead person who did not feel and thus did not matter? Will people read my story a decade from now and liken it to Anne Frank with her story? Or will they find entertainment in it? Will it become a blockbuster that the critics will insult and slate for my characterization? Will they insult me when I am no longer here to defend myself by citing my personality as being unbelievable purely because of age?**_

_**I do not know... I truly do not, but I can assume that the world may not ever know of me as anything more than the nth victim of the 'L.A napper'.**_

_**I do wish that I could be seen as something more than a statistic on paper. I do wish that I can be known as being human. As having lived a life once that was normal, that was average, instead of only recalled as the poor victim. I do wish that my wishes could be."**_

**...**

**...**

Don felt tears in his eyes, his heart truly broke for this girl. He could understand what she felt and what she believed... the world is not a nice place but she is only a child, she should not have to face the sorts of horrors he does yet... here is the proof that she does.

He closed the diary and replaced it upon the desk, leaning forward in his chair. Resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands as he cried... as he broke down for the girl simply because she could not in her position.

Fear was a powerful tool that she knew, so she tried to not show fear. Tried to not let him see it affected her so, she wouldn't let him see her tears, because she knew if he ever did that she would lose the game for good. And so, Don cried for her. He shed the tears that fear kept locked within her.

And somewhere, out in the darkness of the night, a girl raised her head and looked through the metal grating over the small window above her and stared as the stars twinkled in 'hello' to her and the moon began to rise up high in the sky. And she too, felt a tear run down her cheek, yet wiped it away for she could not cry... or she would lose.

She turned her head away from the stars and down at the paper she had and the small pencil she held in her left hand. She smiled sadly and began to sketch an image... a face... of someone she'd never met... but had only seen the face of... a long, long time ago.

A face with dark hair and dark eyes, filled with sadness and pain...

**...**

**...**

Reid sighed and rubbed his eyes as he looked out of the hotel room window, he watched as the stars twinkled and blinked at him. He turned his attention away from them after a moment of contemplating them and their ethereal beauty and instead re-focused his attention on the hardback book in his lap.

He picked it up again and continued to read; slowly... he wanted to savour what he read.

**...**

**...**

_**/He watched with saddened eyes as he observed his boss, his leader, his mentor pick up the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels again and take a long, guilt-ridden swig of its villainous contents.**_

_**The others had left over an hour ago, Tommy had decided upon visiting some of the local clubs in the hopes that he could pick up a pretty looking girl about the age of twenty who would remind him, physically, of the one woman he really wanted but feared acquiring. Lisa, he knew, had decided to go straight to her sparsely decorated and emotionless home to lament her posting in a country she so obviously despised. **_

_**He sighed loudly, drawing his leader's attention, and said, "I'll be going home now boss. I'll be here early tomorrow and will have to leave at midday."**_

_**He waited for his boss, his father-figure to speak, and knew that when he did the alcohol that was now beginning to coarse through his veins would fuel a violent outburst. And he was not disappointed.**_

"_**Why didn't you leave with the others! Why are you going to be leaving early tomorrow! You're on **__**my**__** team McGregor! You don't leave when **__**you**__** want to! You leave when I **__**tell**__** you to!"**_

_**Throughout the entire tirade McGregor watched as emotionlessly as he could as his leader raised his voice and threw the bottle at him. He only moved to avoid getting hit with the glass bottle but still ended up with some of its contents splashing on his clothes. He stared at his team leader, holding the angered and alcohol-clouded gaze until he knew that his boss would not do anything more... violent.**_

_**McGregor spoke, his voice low and firm, "With all due respect **__**sir**__**, I didn't leave with the others because I had to finish typing up my report. I'll be leaving early tomorrow because I have to attend a funeral of a close family member and I understand that I am on **__**your**__** team **__**Agent**____**Tibbs**__**, but you **__**do**____**not**__** have universal authority over me. I told you last week that I would be leaving early tomorrow but I guess you don't recall that."**_

_**Without giving Agent Tibbs the chance to do or say anything, McGregor turned abruptly and entered the lift as its doors opened. He stared at his boss as the doors began to slide shut and noticed that the Agent's alcohol-clouded mind had only just managed to process everything he had said; he could see Tibb's features begin to morph into anger. He called out as the doors slide shut completely, "**__**Goodnight**__** Agent Tibbs!"/**_

**...**

**...**

Reid jumped as the door to the hotel room banged open and Morgan strolled in with NCIS Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo, Mossad Officer Ziva David and the rest of the B.A.U team in-tow.

"Yo Reid!" Morgan called, as he dumped a pile of files down on the cabinet next to his single bed, "Call room service! Get them to send some chow up!"

Reid rolled his eyes and marked his place in the book on his lap and placed it on his bed. He stood up and grabbed the telephone receiver, hit the button for room service and asked the person on the other end to send up some 'chow'.

NCIS Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo looked at the book on Reid's bed with a raised eyebrow and said, "Hey Ziva! Look!"

Mossad Officer Ziva David looked at Agent Dinozzo with a glare on her features; he'd interrupted her conversation with Agent Prentiss, and asked, "Look at what Tony?" as she came over to him.

He pointed at the book and replied, "McGeek's book is getting everywhere!"

Ziva looked at where he was pointing and saw the book. She looked at it, surprised to see it for a moment, then glared at it maliciously. She muttered violently under her breath in a language Dinozzo didn't understand but he got the gist of what she was saying.

She picked it up and looked at the front cover.

"Tony." She said after a long minute of her contemplating the cover.

"Yeah Ziva?" Dinozzo looked at her and nearly shivered when she looked from the book to him.

"Remind me to cause McGee a great amount of pain." She said darkly as she dropped the book back on the bed and turned away from it.

Dinozzo didn't answer, he was sort of afraid for McGeek now, but... he thought McGeek deserved Ziva's wrath...

Reid looked at Dinozzo and asked, in a confused voice, "Why is Officer David planning on causing Agent McGee pain?"

Dinozzo looked at Dr. Reid and answered with a smirk on his face, "Because... Ziva doesn't like fictional characters being based on her!"

Seeing Reid's blank look Dinozzo explained, "McGeek wrote that book you're reading and based the character Lisa on Ziva.. she doesn't appreciate the sentiment."

Reid looked at the book and then at Dinozzo before looking at the book again, "Thom. E. Gemcity is... an anagram of Timothy McGee!"

"Got it in one..." Dinozzo grinned before turning away when there was a knock at the door, "Ah! Food's here!"


	5. FOUR

**FOUR**

Reid stared after Dinozzo in quiet surprise. He then looked at the novel on his bed and decided to read a bit more of it, re-opening it to another, previous chapter. He planned on comparing Dinozzo and the other NCIS team members to the characters in the novel.

**...**

**...**

_**/It was an early and dreary Tuesday morning that saw the arrival of NCIS Special Agent McGregor rushing into the bull pen looking rather harassed. He desperately hoped that Tibbs wasn't in yet, if he was then he was royally screwed!**_

_**As he dumped his rucksack down on the floor beside his desk he breathed a silent breath of relief; there was no-one around in his team and most importantly, no Tibbs! Or so he thought.**_

_**'You're late McGregor!' a deep voice called out, aged yet still demanding of respect. **_

_**He closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the heavens, praying that Tibbs would be kind. He opened his eyes and turned around to face his boss, 'Sorry Boss. It was the traffic-'**_

_**'Yeah right! You live about a mile away McGeek! You're up before daylight and you live for not being tardy! The traffic didn't make you late!' Another voice shouted out from over by the corridor behind him. It was mocking and annoyed McGregor no-end.**_

_**He didn't speak to the owner of that voice and instead spoke to Tibbs, 'I'm sorry boss. It won't happen again.'**_

_**Tibbs looked at him for a long moment where time slowed to a crawl and McGregor felt like he was observing a time dilation before saying, as he turned away and placed the coffee-cup he had in his hand on his own desk, 'You got that right! Now get to work.' Tibbs then walked away, out of the bullpen and up to SECNAV.**_

_**McGregor nodded to the back of his boss and sat down at his desk, booted up his computer and logged into the system. He pointedly ignored the looks he was getting from one of his fellow team members; Tommy. Of course, he couldn't exactly ignore the scrunched up pieces of paper that he was throwing at him. He stop typing on his keyboard and caught one of the balls of paper as it came towards him, he looked at Tommy and said, 'what do you want Tommy?'**_

_**Tommy grinned and took his sweet time in answering, 'I... want to know...' he leaned forward in his chair slightly, 'where **__**you**__**... went last night that ended up making **__**you**__** late **__**this**__** morning!'**_

_**McGregor rolled his eyes at Tommy's blatant disregard for privacy and answered coolly, 'It's none of **__**your**__** concern Tommy. I'm not going to be late again so it **__**doesn't**____**matter**__** where I was and **__**even**__** if it did I **__**def**__**initely wouldn't tell **__**you**__**!'**_

_**'Aww... come on McGeek! All I wanna know if Lisa's telling the truth!' Tommy whined hurling another ball of paper at McGregor, who dodged it expertly.**_

_**He raised an eyebrow at Tommy and shook his head in exasperation, 'well tough Tommy. I'm not going to tell you!'**_

_**'Tell him what McGregor?' a feminine voice asked behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Amy.**_

_**Just as McGregor was about to answer Tommy butt-in and said, 'he was late in this morning and it's obviously because of something he did last night but he won't tell me what it was!'**_

_**McGregor muttered under his breath, 'just because you have no real social life and the only people you know outside of work are-'**_

_**'So! Tommy!' Amy quickly said, cutting off McGregor's little rant, 'who was it you were with last weekend? Was it that same one with the chest hair?'**_

_**They both saw Tommy shiver at that, 'Amy... didn't I say no-one was **__**ever**__** to mention that **__**again**__**?'**_

_**'Did you? I guess I didn't hear you say that,' Amy said with wide-eyed innocence, 'Oh well.'**_

_**McGregor suppressed a smile at that and went and sat down at his desk again. He listened to Tommy describe his date with woman number whatever, and he watched as Amy feigned interest in Tommy's story. He wondered where Lisa was but, just when he was about to ask, the lift opened and out she walked, looking every bit as deadly as he knew she was./**_

**...**

**...**

Reid frowned at the page. He looked up at Agent Dinozzo and attempted to compare him to the character. He obviously knew about the pedantic behaviour and speech pattern; Dinozzo annoyed him at times and he'd only known him a few hours!

Morgan called over to him, 'Hey Reid! Put that book down and come get some food!'

Reid sighed and placed the novel into the drawer of his bedside cabinet before getting up and joining the others around the food.

**...**

**...**

Hotch stood in silence and watched from the shadows; he listened to the quieting crying that echoed across the empty space between him and another figure. He sighed silently, his breath almost unheard by himself and the other in the room.

The other figure continued to sob into his hands, feeling so much of so many different things that he could barely differentiate between happiness and sadness anymore.

Hotch continued to watch in silence, not letting his presence be known and observed the lone figure who looked like all the world was coming to end and he could do nought but watch from the safety of the heavens.

He decided to leave the figure to his tears and swiftly made his way over to the door intending to leave but was stopped by the broken voice that whispered behind him, 'how do I stop this?'

He turned around slowly and walked at a measured pace, his footfalls light and soft, until he was standing directly in front of the figure that was looking up at it with tear-filled and despair-filled eyes.

He said quietly, 'you can't stop this. This is the way you are. You have the natural ability to empathize with others; even those who are twisted and murderous.

'It's a curse you have but you use it to the _best_ of your ability because it can help you to save lives. No-one in the B.A.U can do what you do naturally, we had to learn the meanings of behaviour, you instinctually understand it.'

Don looked away from Hotch and at the diary on the table before him. He took a deep, reassuring breath and said quietly, 'I can't handle this... I'm not capable of handling this...'

'You underestimate yourself Agent Eppes, _Don_. You are one of the best people to have this gift because you are not heartless. You can understand how a victim feels and you are sincere when you are sorry or saddened for them. You _can_ handle this because you already _do_ handle it every day,' Hotch said, his voice still quiet but now with a hint of firmness. Then his voice softened slightly as he said, 'trust me. I'm a profiler.'

Don smiled at the lame attempt to cheer him up and Hotch then said, 'come on. You go to your team and your brother. They'll be wondering where you are.'

Don nodded and stood up. He stared at Hotch for a moment before extending his hand which Hotch grasped. Don said, his voice quiet and sincere, 'thanks Hotch.'

'No need to thank me Don. And call me Aaron,' Hotch answered, smiling slightly.

'Thanks... _Aaron_,' Don amended with a smirk.

**...**

**...**

"_**I remember a day, years ago, when I was playing with some of my childhood friends, from the first primary school I went to. I remember how I was so very popular and sporty and cool and smart and... a bully.**_

_**I really was. I used to believe that I was ever so important, that whatever I did I could not be reprimanded for. I thought I was invincible. I used to bully a few others in my year but the humour of the entire situation is this; I mainly used to bully the older years. **_

_**The big, scary kids who glared at us younger years and told us to go and play with our dolls and toy soldiers. **_

_**When the football the lads used to play with (and myself also) used to roll over the line separating the two playgrounds the older years never used to return it to us unless a teacher was around. One day, we were playing football; my team were winning, naturally, and the ball ended up on the other side of the line. We were never allowed to cross it really.**_

_**We asked for our ball back but the year sixes refused to give it to us. I asked nicely and one year six in particular said to me, 'shut up you little bitch!'**_

_**Not very polite is it? Anyway, in response to his hostile and insulting comment I calmly crossed the line, not caring if the teachers caught me, and proceeded to walk right up to him. **_

_**I glared at him and said, 'Give me the ball back now.' I was done with pleasantries. He still refused using some more vulgar words and so I responded accordingly.**_

_**I kicked him exceptionally hard in the shin, he dropped the ball in reflex, I kicked it back over to the other playground, then I kicked him again on the other shin. He bent over to clutch his shins and I punched him square in the face. I didn't break his nose or anything, no, that would make an unnecessary mess.**_

_**I'm sure you're thinking, 'there's no way a child could do that!' Well, allow me to correct you on this. Most children could not do this. I however, have never been nor ever will be like most children. When I was younger I learnt Taekwondo; a form of martial arts, and I never hesitated to use that knowledge. Plus, I was rather abnormally strong for a young lady.**_

_**So, please do not consider me to be like you were when you were young because I am not you. I am me. I am myself. And I am slowly going insane.**_

**...**

**...**

_**Another day, another battle for my sanity. I have now decided that the best possible way for myself to remain partially sane is to speak of my childhood experiences. They do say that nurture does affect how you think, do they not?**_

_**That is the whole 'nature versus nurture' debate isn't it now? Yes, I do believe it is. Well in my personal opinion on the matter I believe that each are of equal merit. I believe that the genetic predispositions affect you; if you are naturally smarter, naturally sporty etc., but I also believe that your upbringing has some sort of an effect on you; a person who grew up in a wealthy household will normally be more materialistic etc.**_

_**My mother, my mam, has always said that I have natural talents in anything that I put my mind to. I've always been a natural singer, artist and writer. I seem to have the inert ability to understand and do anything I attempt. I believe this may be the 'nature' part of the whole argument. In regards to the 'nurture' part well, if my mam had not brought me up in a loving household and with encouragement and giving me access to anything I wanted, then I doubt I would be able to do half of the things I can do today. So therefore, with that reasoning I conclude that 'nature' and 'nurture' both affect me since if I did not have a natural ability I might not attempt something but if I did not have the encouragement I might not even do it even if I were good at it since I would never really have the opportunity.**_

_**Am I making any sense with this whatsoever, or is it just the ramblings of a partially insane person? Does anything I write, think or say really make any sense? Is there any logic left in my mind or has it been burned away with the intense synaptic overloads that each session brings?**_

_**I truly, truly do not know.**_

**...**

**...**

_**Oh how I wish I could be found sometime soon! I am getting rather tired of this endless pattern!**_

_**What is that outside? A car? A truck, I think. It looks to be one of those silly attempts at a 4x4, what are they called again? SUV! That's it! It's an SUV!**_

_**And I think I can see a license plate... am I that lucky? It reads;**_

_**CALIFORNIA**_

_**LB4 911O**_

_**I do believe that the SUV is silver and has tinted black windows... Oh my, I can see him! He's putting boxes into the SUV. I don't know what those boxes contain but I don't think I should really be concerned with that should I?**_

_**I should be more concerned with the possibility that he's leaving... will he take me with him? Will he leave me behind? Or will he kill me here, alone?**_

_**Oh please let it not be the last one... please, dear God! Please...**_

**...**

**...**

_**Well, it seems I'm not going to die... in fact it seems that he'll be taking me with him. Of course I could probably attempt to escape but I don't think he's going to allow me to be conscious during this little journey to wherever we're going to go.**_

_**Oh well... perhaps something will happen and I will be found. Perhaps I will be saved...**_

_**I sincerely doubt that."**_

Don bolted from his seat and shouted, "I've got a license plate and car identity!'"

Whatever noise that existed in the room he was in instantly ceased. The entire B.A.U team looked at him in surprise, even his own team did and Agent Gibbs just raised an eyebrow. 'Stubborn Navy git!' he thought absently as he told Hotch, "She gave a description of an SUV and its license plate. We might be able to find her."

Hotch looked at him for a moment before nodding and saying, "Morgan. Call Garcia, have her run a search on-"

"McGee can do that now Agent Hotchner." Gibbs cut in looking at him. Hotch stared at Gibbs for a couple of seconds before nodding and allowing Gibbs to order McGee over, "McGee."

"On it Boss." McGee answered immediately, his attention had been drawn by Gibbs the moment he'd said his name.

Charlie and Reid watched him, as did everyone else, as he grabbed his Mac Book and opened it up, connected it to the NCIS server and typed in his private log in details. He then looked at Don and said, "Could you give me the license plate?"

Don nodded and read it out loud, "LB4 911O. Silver SUV, black tinted windows."

McGee nodded absently as his mind focused entirely on the results appearing. Don then added, "It's a California plate," which helped McGee narrow the results down to one.

He looked at them and said, "I've got a name and address." He turned his computer around on his lap and showed them the image, "And a face too."

**...**

**...**

"_**I'm seriously debating as to whether or not to continue to live and allow him to do as he wishes or to let myself die in this horrid, dirt-infested cellar. Should I die now and give him the opportunity to go and find another innocent victim? Should I care what happens if I die? Should I care about someone I'll never meet because I'll just be a rotting corpse? Why should I care about those who care not for me?**_

_**They walk along the streets, out in the large cities, past the television stores with their front windows full of variously sized TV-sets that blare out soundlessly about the man who's taken me. They stop for a moment and watch it, seeing the picture of me on the screen, when I recalled how to smile and be happy, and they think 'how horrible... oh well, where's my shopping list?' and then continue on their merry way. I'm out of their minds because I'm out of their sights. How is that fair?"**_

The girl sighed and stopped scrawling the words that flowed out of her mind, down her left hand, through the pencil and onto the paper set upon her lap. She looked away from the depressing dribble she had written and focused on the steel-bolt door that kept her entombed within her crypt. She so desperately wished that she could simply stand and push the door open with a magical amount of strength, with the ease seen in the cartoon shows her niece and nephew used to watch when they came to visit her family.

But she was no super-hero, she was no figment of an over-active imagination, she was real and corporeal... and she did not have the power to free herself from both the physical and psychological cage she was trapped within.

**...**

**...**

Don sat in the black SUV as it hurtled down the free-way, at a speed that would terrify even a NASCAR racer. He desperately clung to the car door as SSA Derek Morgan fish-tailed around a corner and onto a normal road with so much vigour that Don was certain that everyone considered the black, federal SUV to have been stolen by a street-racer!

Colby and Prentiss along with Dr. Reid were sitting in the back, all of them silently praying to God that they would not die in the back of an SUV. Reid though, was by far the most calm and collected of them; he was just gripping his hands together in what looked to be a choke-hold on the pen in his grasp.

Prentiss, whose skin was pale to begin with, now looked whiter than a sheet of bleached paper and Colby was looking distinctly green around the edges.

Behind them in two other black, federal SUVs Don knew that there was the rest of his team, the B.A.U team and the NCIS team that had appeared just a few hours ago. He guessed that in the SUV just behind them was Aaron, driving as recklessly as Morgan was and that Officer David would be at the rear. But how wrong he was.

**...**

**...**

When they reached the home of their murderer they pulled up, about a block away, out of the house's sight. They all vacated the SUVs and Don was surprised to notice that the second SUV that had been right on Morgan's tail the whole way there had been driven by Officer David. He made a mental note to ask her where she'd learnt to drive that way.

Hotch stood next to Gibbs and Don walked over to stand next them and listened as Hotch addressed their conglomerated teams.

'We don't know whether or not he knows we're here and I don't want him to find out too soon. Morgan, I want you to go round back with Granger, Reeves and Prentiss, Reid I want you to go through the service tunnel we saw on the plans for this place with McGee and Don. Agent Gibbs, you, Sinclair and Rossi will go through the front with me. Agent Dinozzo and Officer David will go through from the balcony connecting the house to the next door neighbours.'

Everyone nodded at Hotch's plan and, after a few moments of gearing up, they all slowly made their way to their respective places.

Don was reluctant to go with McGee and Reid since he doubted they even knew how to fire the weapons they were holding; or maybe he was just being presumptuous, maybe they weren't like Charlie, maybe they knew how to use their weapons and have already had to fire them at a suspect, he didn't know but he hoped they wouldn't be a hindrance to him.

**...**

**...**

He sat down and relaxed in the armchair that he had bought at the furniture store down the road, he had felt like splashing out since he knew she'd be broken soon. True, she had been resilient and stubbornly persistent but he knew that the little slut would give in. They always did.

**...**

**...**

Ziva and Tony quickly made their way over to the house that was connected to the suspect's home and knocked on the door. As they waited for the owner to answer Tony said to Ziva, 'so, did you see Agent Eppe's face when you got out the SUV?'

'No I did not. Why?' Ziva asked, focused impatiently on the slow moving figure they could see behind the distorted glass of the front door.

'Because he looked like he'd just been head-slapped,' Tony answered grinning, 'I don't think he believed you could drive so-'

'-So _what,_ Tony?' Ziva queried, her voice carrying that sickly sweet and I'm-not-going-to-kill-you-if-you-say-my-driving-sucks-yet. She gave him a side-long glance which Tony avoided, choosing to focus on the figure who was fiddling with the lock on the front door.

'So... rally-driver like,' Tony finished, putting on a charming smile when the door opened to reveal an old-age pensioner. 'Hello ma'am, I'm afraid we need to use your upstairs balcony, NCIS investigation.' he said smoothly, flipping his badge out and then away in a flash.

'Thank you, for your co-operation ma'am,' he smiled and stepped past her with Ziva following.

The woman for the most part just looked at them aghast before saying, 'alright... please be careful, my mister Tiddles is up on the balcony. He's sunning himself see.'

Without a clue as to who, or what, mister Tiddles was Tony said, 'alright thank you ma'am,' and made his way quickly up to the balcony to come face-to-face with a mean looking ginger tomcat.


	6. FIVE

**FIVE**

_One _

They looked at each other, silent for a moment, before the thinnest and youngest of them began to climb down into the dank, wet and obviously rat-infested tunnel that would lead them to what they searched for.

**...**

**...**

_Two_

He looked at the three people trailing behind him, one was silent as he swiftly made his way around the bricks and rubbish that was piled in little mounds. Such an impressive silence for one so tall, obviously he was ex-military... maybe that would come in handy. The others were just as silent though their footfalls were consciously made, meaning they did not have the natural – or drummed into them – skill of silence. Few did and he was lucky that he himself did because he had a feeling that silence was about to become the most important weapon he had; more so than the gun held aloft in his hands.

**...**

**...**

_Three_

The grey-haired man with the most piercing blue eyes held in his gut a feeling that alls-well-would-not-end-well...

Something was wrong; he just didn't know what it was. And he hated not knowing... it could cause pain and destruction. Not knowing could cause an unnecessary death, and that was something he would never allow...

**...**

**...**

_Four_

The dark-haired, foreign woman silently laughed as she observed the man she was with grappling with a ginger feline that so obviously wanted to gouge out his eyes. The only problem she had with that was she like his eyes; she liked all of him the way he was. She wouldn't let the cat blind him nor scare him permanently, but a few scratches might teach him to look before he leapt. But, then he would change and she didn't want that... well, not now she didn't.

**...**

**...**

_Five_

She stared forlornly around the dank cellar-like dungeon she was contained within. She could feel her resolve slipping, her stubborn English nature failing to keep its noble head above the rising water. How much longer could she last? How much longer does she want to last?

**...**

**...**

_Six_

He looked around himself as he stood beside the metal ladder that one of the others with him was currently descending. He pulled out a flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on, its beam cutting a bright light in the gloomy shadows. Another beam of light joined his own and, after a moment of rifling around, the last person of their trio added another beam to the other two.

They were silent and chose to communicate via hand signals. Waving his right arm forwards softly; advance. Finger to his lips; quiet. Two fingers pointed to his eyes; look. Pointing ahead of them towards a steel door; over there.

**...**

**...**

_Seven_

He leaned back even more in his comfortable armchair, his mind already becoming fuzzy from the several beers he'd just consumed. The television set in front of him buzzed out and droned on about something that he couldn't be bothered thinking about and it slowly began to lull him to sleep...

He heard a noise, a strange sound outside his door. He thought it was nothing until he heard it again, this time it was louder – a voice... whispering... sounding urgent.

His mind suddenly woke up fully, the little haze it had been suspended in gone and in its place adrenalin based army of focus. He grabbed the shotgun beside his armchair and quietly stood. He aimed his weapon at the door in front of him and waited for the idiots who were about to burst into his home.

**...**

**...**

_Eight_

The grey-haired man stood beside the other three men who were stood outside the door with him; one with greying hair, another with dark hair and another with a closely cut hairstyle that made it difficult to see whether he even had hair. He stood off to the side of the door, opposite the dark haired man with the man with the greying hair behind him and the other, mostly bald one behind the dark haired man.

He signalled for them to enter on the count of three.

One; a woman who loves the man battling with the ball of fur, waiting for him to be prepared.

Two; a boy who lived a lifetimes worth of horrors standing outside a door of solid steel.

Three; a monster on the other side about to take a life.

The door crashes open, they pour in; from the front door, the balcony and the back door. The man pulls the trigger and-

**BANG**

**...**

**...**

A shotgun shell – sometimes shortened to 'shotshell' – is a self-contained cartridge that is loaded with _shot_ or a _slug_ designed to be fired from a shotgun, hence the name. Most shotgun shells are designed in mind with the idea of them being fired from a smoothbore barrel, but due to an unusual increase in the popularity of shotguns with rifled barrels for firing _slugs_, there are now many rounds that have been specifically designed to be fired from a rifled barrel.

As it is, a rifled barrel will increase the accuracy of the shotgun with _slugs_ but it also makes it unsuitable for firing _shot_, as the rifling causes the shot to form a hollow 'O' shape in flight. There is though, some less lethal ammunition for shotguns that is available in the form of _slugs_ made of low-density materials such as rubber for example. Of course, that is of little importance if you're hit with either a _slug_, _shot_ or a rubber bullet because one thing is certain; it will hurt like hell.

It then, is of great concern for the person who, after entering house on the count of three, was on the receiving end of a shotgun, whether the shell is a _shot_, _slug_ or rubber...

At least it is until he is suddenly shoved aside by another person and they are sent crashing down to the ground in a grand tangle of limbs.

"Put the weapon down!"

"Drop it!"

"Freeze! FBI!"

A chorus of different shouts echo around the room but that does not deter the man who holds the shotgun that oh-so-nearly ended an NCIS special agent's life. The man dashes away from the federal agents, firing off random rounds as he does so to divide their attention between him and the need to find cover, and crashes into a door that leads down to the basement of the house he lives in.

"Where is he?" Hotch shouts as he and Gibbs manage to untangle themselves and stand up, looking both a little dishevelled.

"He went down there," Dinozzo replies as he and Ziva finish descending the stairs from the second floor and pointing at the basement door with his gun, "I think it leads to the basement."

They all look at it and they all realise one thing; none of them can risk opening that door and getting shot by their Unsub.

"Where are Reid, McGee and Don now?" Hotch says aloud, looking around at everyone hoping one of them had an answer.

Ziva recalled the design of the house they'd seen prior to this attempted arrest and said, "They will probably be in the service tunnel that connects to the basement of this house," Then, realising what she'd just said she added, "They will probably come across our killer."

**...**

**...**

Don and McGee both stood to the side of the steel door as Reid crouched in front of the lock and deftly picked it open; a nifty trick he'd picked up in high school after he'd been locked in one too many cleaning closets.

All three of them started when they heard the sound of a shotgun and then the subsequent sound of return shots being fired. As much as they each wanted to go and check on their teams they knew that if their victim was in this room in front of them then they had an obligation to getting her out now, before they joined in with the fire-fight upstairs.

Reid twisted the long piece of wire a little to right and was satisfied to hear the sound of the lock unlocking. He stood up and turned the handle on the door; checking with both McGee and Don that they were ready, and then, on the count of three he opened the door and they all aimed their weapons into the room which held a girl.

**...**

**...**

She sat waiting patiently for them to finish picking the lock on the door to her physical cage; not concerning herself with making a sound to inform them of her presence. She did not jump when the sounds of gun-fire reached her ears, though she was sure that those on the other side of the door did.

When the lock clicked and a moment later the door swung open to reveal three men, all with guns that were pointed in her general direction. She sighed and resisted the urge to pull a tongue at them; who did they think would be in here, the monster who tortured her?

"Hey, are you alright?" One of them asked; he had brown hair and eyes and looked at her as though he knew her, which was a bit of a surprise for her.

She raised a single eyebrow and gave him a look that basically said are-you-kidding? Which he interpreted and said, "Stupid question huh."

Before she could do anything there was the sound of a shotgun being fired nearby and both of the other two men dived into the room and pulled the door over behind them. One of them; the thin, younger one said, "Our Unsub's here..."

The dark haired man looked back at her and said, "I'm Don Eppes, I work with the FBI. That's Special Agent McGee from NCIS and that's Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU," he said as he pointed towards each of the men in the room, "You're Katrine right?"

She nodded mutely and looked deep into Don Eppes eyes, analysing him and every word he said. After a moment or two she decided that he was telling her the truth and smiled at him slightly, before saying, "Yes. I'm Katrine..."

**...**

**...**

"We're not going anywhere guys, and if he locks this door on us we're not going to be able to get out," Don said as he carefully made his way over to the door and crouched down beside it, looking across at Reid who was on the other side and then over at McGee who was leaning against the side-wall to his left; all three of them had their weapons trained on the door ready and willing to shoot whatever steps through.

"I'm rather certain that that is blatantly obvious," Katrine said softly as she silently rose to her feet and danced across the floor over to Don, "might I suggest a distraction?"

"That might work if it weren't for the fact that this guy's got a goddamn shotgun and I for one do _not_ want to get hit by one of those bullets," Don said shaking his head.

"They're shells not bullets, shotguns don't have bullets," Katrine almost whispered as she slid down the wall and slumped against it looking forlornly across the cell-like dungeon she'd been in for weeks.

Reid was silent as he thought to himself, his mind flashing about at the speed of light from one idea to the next; each being dismissed. Eventually he composed a plan that he figured would work, perhaps it might not be the most productive of plans but it would work. Hopefully.

He looked up at Don and smiled slightly before saying, "Agent Eppes?"

"Call me Don please Dr," Don cut in looking at Reid who grinned and responded.

"Only if you call me Reid."

Don smirked and nodded, "Deal. What about you Agent McGee?" he looked over at McGee who shrugged.

"McGee's okay with me, it's better than half the name's Tony comes up with," McGee grinned and laughed quietly when Reid spoke.

"Don't you mean 'Tommy'?"

"You've read my book?" McGee was honestly surprised and was anticipating Reid's answer when suddenly a deafening explosion of sounds echoed around the cell when the Unsub on the other side fired into the room; carving a rather impressive hole in the wall directly in front of the open door.

Don looked at Katrine and was about to tell her to find cover when she said, "He's going to run out of shells soon if he keeps on firing away like this, and I doubt he's got an infinite amount with him."

Don nodded in understanding and shouted across to Reid and McGee, "Try to make him keep shooting!"

Reid immediately cottoned onto what Don was planning on and fired a few blind shots out the door. McGee however hadn't been able to hear what Don had said properly and so shouted back, "What?"

Don rolled his eyes and was saved the explanation when Reid answered for him, "We've got to make him waste his shells. If he's only got a couple with him then we'll be able to arrest him soon enough!"

McGee nodded and fired off two rounds into the hall and was strangely satisfied when one of them ricocheted and left a dent in a pipe running horizontally along the wall.

The three of them fired off one or two rounds every few minutes and were continuously rewarded with the loud BANG of a shotgun wasting another shell. He'd run out... eventually.

**...**

**...**

Hotch and Gibbs were instantly on the move when they heard another shotgun blast and the responding cracks of 9 mil glocks. They were incredibly worried about their people down in the basement, so worried in fact that they decided to risk going down the basement stairs. Members of their teams were in trouble; they weren't going to stand by and leave them alone.

Colby and David were stood next to Megan and looked as though they wanted to turf Hotch and Gibbs out of the way and dive down into the basement to get to their friend.

"We're going down in two minutes. Make sure you're all ready; Gibbs and I will be first. Morgan, Dinozzo you're next. Then Prentiss and Ziva and the rest of you," Hotch said, his voice leaving no room for argument; not that anyone would argue since they all wanted to get to their friends and colleagues.

Gibbs stood to one side of the door and Hotch the other, they nodded to one another and Gibbs gripped the handle. Turned it. Opened the door. They went through and... entered a war zone.

**...**

**...**

_If I'm going to die I'm going to take that little whore out with me! That's a promise! A Fucking promise!_ He thought to himself as he fired blindly at the room, his anger and hatred boiling over, I_'m going to put a fucking bullet between her fucking intelligent, mocking eyes! The bitch! I'm going to kill her!_

_She's not going to ever be able to insult me ever again! I'll teach the bitch! I fucking teach her not to look down her nose at me! What does she know about life? What does she know about anything? She's just a fucking whore! All she wants to do is fuck a guy and leave them high and fucking dry! She doesn't give a shit! None of them do! But I'll teach her... I'll fucking teach her not to fuck with me!_

**...**

**...**

They didn't have long to wait, they knew he'd run out of bullets in the next few minutes but the question that was just dancing on the tips of their tongues was; would they last that long?

**BANG**

**CRACK**

**BANG**

**CRACK  
CRACK**

**BANG**

A constant repetition of the same sounds was beginning to get on everyone's nerves, especially when the BANGs were coming from a shotgun that could easily blow any one of them away with a single shell. Not the most encouraging thought at times like these when they were depending on the guy being a bad enough aim and ignorant enough as to waste all his rounds so that they could live to see another day.

**BANG**

A close-call for McGee as he dived away from the wall he'd been against just moments before a huge hole graced its concrete surface; it seemed that their Unsub had moved closer, which wasn't good.

"McGee!" Don shouted out firing off a blind round not caring where it went, his attention was more focused on the NCIS agent who was lying on the floor looking owlishly around.

Upon hearing his name however McGee snapped back to reality and managed to crawl over to the wall next to Reid relatively quickly. He checked his clip and responded to Don with a quick, "Fine!" before cocking his weapon and aiming it out the door fully intending to blow the Unsub away.

Of course, he should've been more careful with his intentions because...

**BOOM!**

**...**

**...**

Hotch and Gibbs reached the bottom of the stairs into the basement just as they heard an almighty explosion and saw, to their obvious horror, a great ball of flames come flying down a long, concrete corridor that they guessed was the access tunnel the Unsub had built into his home after his first victim. They instinctively dove for cover whilst yelling at those still on the stairs to get back up and lock the door.

Though they wanted to make sure that their orders had been followed they couldn't because a mere second after they had thrown themselves over a table with a tarpaulin cover and tipped it, there was an almighty heat and feeling that they were being thrown around whilst not moving from the spots they cowered upon.

And once it was over they felt so relieved to be alive that they could not move for sheer joy.

**...**

**...**

They were lying around the debris-filled dungeon, some of it burning dimly, all unconscious from the explosion; one of them had some pretty severe lacerations whilst another looked to be pinned to the ground by a slab of the ceiling. Out of the four in the room only one of them looked to be relatively unharmed; though this may be because the only other who was trapped or crushed already had pre-existing injuries.

**...**

**...**

"GET BACK UP THE STAIRS!"

Dinozzo and Morgan shoved the others behind them backwards the moment their team leaders had screeched the warning and literally threw themselves through the door shouting for someone to slam it shut; which Ziva promptly did.

As a result none of them were harmed in any way by the resulting explosion or fire-ball which, to them, had appeared out of nowhere. Which meant that, once they were certain that there wasn't going to be a further fire-ball-of-hell, they could descend into the basement and help their team leaders as well as check for any bodies.

**...**

**...**

Hotch stared directly in front of him for what felt like an eternity before finally feeling as though he had overcome most of the shock and exhilaration he was feeling to be able to stand up without falling to his knees.

Gibbs had similarly reached this same conclusion and with slow, deliberate movements the duo managed to stand up on their own and keep their footing. After taking a few deep breaths to calm their nerves they both silently, or as silently as one can go when walking upon debris and burnt papers and such, made their way towards the corridor; or what was left of it.

Just as they reached it the door to the basement, from the ground floor of the house above them, opened and Dinozzo and Morgan looked into the basement. Gibbs and Hotch reacted instantly, aiming their firearms at them but refrained from shooting either of them.

Without really waiting for any orders to the contrary, both Dinozzo and Morgan swiftly made their way down the slightly charred stairs and quickly covered the distance of the basement to reach their respective team leaders sides; with the others following close behind.

Then, with a simple nod and the words, "We'll go first, you follow," Gibbs and Hotch led the way along the corridor with the others following closely behind; all firearms at the ready.

**...**

**...**

Charlie paced incessantly up and down in front of the map he'd been working on, feeling incredibly worried about Spencer and his brother. He couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen; or had already happened.

Just as he was about to stride out into the main area of the police station one of the cellphone's that someone had left began ringing insanely and, instead of leaving it and continuing with his plan, Charlie picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Who's this?" A young, female voice asked on the other end of the line; there was loud, rock music blaring in the background making it difficult for Charlie to hear what the young woman was saying, "McGee?"

"Erm... no... no this is Charles Eppes. I'm afraid Agent McGee isn't here right now. Do you want me to take a message?" Charlie answered, as he raised his eyebrows in surprise; so this was McGee's cellphone then.

"Charles Eppes as in THE Charles Eppes?" The young lady asked sounding incredibly happy.

"Yeah..." Charlie frowned, wondering how this young woman knew him, "Erm... can I ask who's calling please?"

"Oh. Abby. Abby Scutio. I work with McGee," Abby answered off-hand, "hey! Do you know where McGee is?"

"Ermm... I think he's with my brother carrying out an arrest," Charlie answered wondering if this Abby could even hear him over the music that was playing in the background.

"Oh... well, can you just tell him that I've re-run the DNA and found three more matches to several cases that hadn't been flagged?" Abby asked.

"Er, yeah! Yeah, I'll do that," Charlie answered as he scrambled for a pen and pad.

"Okay. I'll send an e-mail to this 'Penelope Garcia' so that this 'BAU' team can get the info too. See ya'!" Abby said cheerily before cutting the call and leaving Charlie with a half-written note and eyebrows that had raised so high that it looked like he had none whatsoever.

"Bye..." he sighed as he snapped the cellphone shut and placed it on the table.


	7. SIX

**SIX**

_**/Carefully they made their way along the dim corridor, choosing their footing with extreme care and attention. Their breathing was low and laboured as they tried to breathe in the dust-clogged air. Their minds were filled with worst-case-scenarios for this entire thing... they didn't want to have bury a friend, a colleague./**_

Hotch looked back at Gibbs as he stepped over what looked to be a piece of human flesh, before continuing on down what was left of the corridor. He could hear the sound of dripping water and the low hissing of a gas mains pipe that had burst and still had not been switched off; typical.

_**/Breathing deeply he reached the end of the corridor and gently checked the slight bend to see if anything was about to jump out at them, when he saw nothing about to attack him he continued on his way, just as carefully as before./**_

When Hotch and Gibbs reached the end of the corridor they were surprised to see a huge gap in the wall; which they guessed once held a door... or had met the Incredible Hulk. Trying to look through the dusty air Hotch thought he spotted a person trapped underneath a sheet of concrete, but he couldn't get a good enough look as to discern who it was he could see.

Gibbs, who had stopped next to Hotch, also noticed the trapped person and would not have been able to identify them if it weren't for the glow-in-the-dark chain that he could see hanging around their neck; he only knew of one person who gave those out and only he wasn't wearing one, "McGee. That's McGee."

Dinozzo and Morgan stood behind their respective team leaders, both peering over their shoulders to see what Hotch and Gibbs were staring at. When Dinozzo saw his friend trapped beneath the concrete he looked at Gibbs in silent desperation, and Gibbs looked at Hotch with a look of we're-going-to-get-him-now. Hotch nodded in response and the four of them carefully stepped into the room, Gibbs said to Ziva, "Ziva, call an ambulance and fire services."

Ziva nodded dumbly, unable to speak. She stepped out of the way of the two Davids and Colby who went and joined Hotch, Gibbs, Dinozzo and Morgan in rescuing their friends, their teams.

A few hours ago they weren't on the best of terms. A few hours ago none of them liked each other all that much. A few hours ago they felt an intense sense of rivalry between the teams.

Now... now they were all one big team, working together to help save their friends. One big team.

**...**

**...**

Charlie stood and paced up and down in annoyance; he'd already called Don four times. _Four times_! And every time he'd been rewarded with his brother's voicemail. He had tried to get a hold of Spence but he hadn't picked up either and now he was starting to suspect the worst.

He looked at the map he and Spencer had doodled on and noticed in the corner a couple of equations that didn't look familiar to him; at least, not the handwriting. He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, and looked closer at them; his mind analysing them for a few minutes until he realised that they were computer coding equations. He didn't really use computer coding equations all that much and he doubted that Spence did; since he didn't have any need to, he knew that the BAU had their own technical analyst, so who... McGee?

Charlie smiled widely at that and was about to add another line to the equations when his cellphone rang. He grabbed it off the table and looked at the caller ID; Colby. _'At last!'_

"Colby! I've been trying to-" Charlie began to rant but Colby's tone of voice cut him off immediately; and his ability to breathe also.

"Don's been hurt, he's on the way to the hospital now."

'_No... no...'_ "I'll be there in ten minutes!" Charlie whispered, feeling like his legs would give out on him right that second.

"Okay."

The line went dead and Charlie collapsed against the table, _'no... not Don... no..'_ He felt numb, he felt like the whole world had stopped. He felt like he had to see his brother. Now.

Taking in a deep, steadying and calming breath, Charlie forced his legs to support him as he silently left the conference room and walked past the desks that various detectives and police officers sat at. He left the station and climbed into the only SUV that had been left at the station; due to its damaged sirens, and made his way towards the hospital. In complete silence.

**...**

**...**

They'd managed to reach their friends in a relatively short time and had dug them out when the ambulances had arrived. The EMTs had ushered everyone out of the way and had worked quickly and efficiently to make McGee, Reid, Don and the victim ready for transport to the hospital.

Hotch had offered to go with the victim, Morgan with Reid, Colby with Don and Dinozzo with McGee; which left the others to deal with the crime scene and what was left of the unsub.

Ziva, Megan, the two David's, JJ, Prentiss and Gibbs remained at the house and began to check the area, processing and collecting any evidence they found. They'd all seen Colby calling Charlie as he'd climbed into the ambulance and sat next to Don and none of them envied him; David and Megan knew how hard it could be to talk to Charlie about Don getting hurt. He seemed to shut himself off to it all; almost as though he were a machine, and it wasn't healthy. For any of them.

**...**

**...**

Charlie, upon reaching the hospital, turned off the engine and rested his head heavily against the steering wheel as he tried to bring his feelings and breathing under control; after the initial shock of finding out his brother was injured he'd been numb to everything other than the urge to see his brother, but that shock had worn off and he now felt like he couldn't breathe properly and like his insides had turned into live snakes. It was more than a little disconcerting as he closed his eyes and tried to sooth the reptiles in his gut.

What he really wanted to do was waltz right into the hospital, find whoever looked to be incharge, and then order them to tell him everything they knew about his brother; but he couldn't exactly do that since he was a polite person... mostly.

'_Don could be dying... he could be dead! And I'm here... worried about offending someone who probably doesn't give a damn about him!'_ Charlie's shoulders shuddered as he thought about the possibility of Don being, _'No! He isn't dead! And they'll care! They'll care... right?'_ he wasn't sure anymore, he wasn't sure in the first place and now those snakes in his gut were twisting and hissing with violent ferocity and he couldn't ignore them anymore... he had to do something even if it hurt someone, he had to... he had to.

Taking a deep breath and forcing his shuddering shoulders to stop shaking in worry he sat up properly in the driver's seat and opened his eyes to see chaos as people ran about the Accident & Emergency section of the hospital. _'Oh God'_ he thought to himself as he opened the car door and slid out, stepping onto the tarmac of the parking lot with tentative feet. What was he going to do exactly? He didn't know but he figured he'd be rude for once in his life and order people to give him the answers that he wanted.

'_Oh God... please don't let him die... please... not after mom...' _he swallowed thickly as he thought about his mother, _'please... I don't want to lose Don too!'_ he slowly made his way towards the hospital, phasing everything out as he passed people holding screaming children and old, injured men and bloodied bystanders; he had no idea what had happened to them all, he just didn't care about them... all he cared about was his brother.

'_Don...'_

**...**

**...**

_Where am I?_

_Why am I here?_

_Who is she?_

_What is this place?_

_..._

_Is this Heaven?_

_..._

_..._

_Am I dead?_

**...**

**...**

_Oh dear me... this is unusual... after everything that's happened, it's ironic that this is how I'm going to go... unconscious and bleeding to death after I was so close to salvation... such a sad bit of irony I suppose, well, I am British, irony applies to us in the nth term so I suppose I might as well accept-_

_Wait a moment... dear shadows with your beckoning embraces allow me a brief reprieve from your company whilst I go and discover the cause of this slow, rhythmic beating._

_Alas... I know what it is... sweet home L.A! Lord I'm coming home today!_

**...**

**...**

_What am I meant to do here? Chances are I'm in limbo, or something like that right? Oh man, I'm not one for this... I need to pick a side; left or right; live or die..._

_And I really hate making this sort of decision... I mean, I've got push and pull factors for both sides haven't I? Mom on the side of being dead but with the downside of never seeing Chuck or Dad until they snuff it too... if I choose to live then I have Chuck and Dad but I have to wait a long time to see Mom again._

_I really hate decisions like this... chasing bad guy's is so much easier._

**...**

**...**

"What exactly are we going to do with all of this?" Ziva asked as she picked her way through the rubble and left-over's of the unsub; who knew that getting blown to smithereens wasn't that good for your complexion?

"Bag and tag it," Gibbs answered automatically as he side-stepped a rather charred piece of flesh that looked like it might once have had been a spleen... or maybe a foot, he couldn't really tell.

"Well that's going to be fun," Megan muttered to Ziva as they both pulled on a pair of latex gloves and set to work, 'bagging and tagging' everything.

"How did this happen? Our profile never said anything about this unsub being a bomber," Rossi asked out loud as he stood near to what was left of one of the walls that seemed to be supporting one of the houses foundations, "and if he was a bomber, why not show off with letters and taunts to the police? Why just hide his tools away from everyone?"

"Unless he wasn't a bomber," Sinclair said as he came to stand next to Rossi and look around, "these old houses normally have gas pipes running from the furnaces in the basements, maybe a bullet ricochet and caused the explosion?"

Gibbs looked around and tried to imagine how the basement had looked before the blast, focusing on an area which looked like it was pretty void of any 'human' left-over's, "The unsub was standing there," he indicated with a nod as he moved towards the charred remains free-zone, "so the explosion must have occurred around here, which is where the gas pipes would have been on the wall that used to be here."

Ziva and Megan crouched down and poked around for anything of use, and discovered a piece of lead piping buried under the rubble, "we've found something," Megan called out and the guys quickly moved over to them, taking in the condition of the piping.

"This could have been where a bullet ricochets" Ziva said as she indicated a spot where the piping was partially bevelled on one side of it, like a tiny dent, that looked to have been caused by a bullet as opposed to a pile of concrete and the explosion itself.

"So it was ricochet that caused the explosion," Rossi nodded, accepting the theory and the evidence, he wasn't a fan of his own 'unsub was a bomber' theory that much so he was happy for 'bullet ricochet' theory, "but who's bullet caused the explosion?"

Gibbs sighed inside as Megan answered softly, "I don't think we'll ever know, unless the others can tell us what happened."

**...**

**...**

JJ and Prentiss were looking around inside the house of the unsub trying to find anything that could explain why he'd gone after these girls so determinedly, and were quite sickened by what they found. JJ moved away trying to control her temper and breathing whilst Prentiss moved over to the basement door and called down, "guys, we've found something that you might want to see!"

Gibbs and the others trooped up the stairs, only Sinclair and Ziva staying behind for a moment to put the lead piping into an evidence bag and seal it, before hurrying after the others who were standing in front of Prentiss looking at her in either impatience; Gibbs, curiosity; Megan, or reassurance; Rossi.

Prentiss took a breath before saying quietly, as she began to lead them up the stairs and towards one of the back rooms of the house which JJ was standing outside of looking paler than usual, "we looked around to find what caused him to kidnap and torture his victims and this is what we found."

She opened the door and moved aside to let them enter, not wanting to even look inside the room from the threshold, she'd never seen anything like it; except in an abattoir.

"Oh my God..." Megan breathed softly as she took in what she saw, her hand automatically reaching out for whoever was closest to her; which happened to be Ziva who returned the grasp as she too took in what she was seeing.

"He is lucky he is dead..." Ziva whispered almost silently as her eyes roved over the walls and the ground, she had never seen such a sight... not even in those horror movies that Tony insisted they watch on team movie-night.

Silently Rossi inched everyone out of the room as Gibbs took a firm grasp of the door handle and closed the door, cutting off the dreary sight of what lay within that room. As Gibbs looked at Rossi, Rossi said softly, "I think we should warn the CSIs before they go in there."

Gibbs nodded silently and said in a low, quiet, but non-argumentative voice, "we're turning this over to the L.A P.D, get your stuff and be in the cars in ten minutes, we're going to see how the others are."

Nobody argued with him and they all silently moved off to collect their gear and get to the cars; Ziva, Megan, JJ and Prentiss choosing to use the SUV and leave the guys with the NCIS sedan. None of them could get the image of that room out of their heads and they all had the same thought on the top of their mind, _'is that what that girl went through? How did she survive?'_

**...**

**...**

"I'm sorry Mr Eppes, I can't tell you how your brother is because I don't know," the nurse sighed as she tried to placate Charlie, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"You're a nurse at this hospital, my brother was brought in injured! Someone from his team was with him, just tell me where they are and I'll leave you alone!" he half shouted, he couldn't believe how stupidly ignorant this nurse was being, it was like she was deliberately not listening to what he was saying to her.

"Fine... your brother is in surgery on the fourth floor, whoever was with him will be in one of the waiting rooms up there, now could you please step aside so I can deal with more urgent and pressing cases?" she sighed and glared at him.

"You're very unprofessional do you know that ma'am?" a voice called out behind her, sounding familiar to Charlie who looked to see who the owner of it was, "Agent Eppes' brother right?"

"Agent Dinozzo?" Charlie asked as he nodded and moved past the nurse who was turning a shade of red at Tony's insinuation.

"Come on, we're up on the fourth floor waiting for the doc's to put our friends back together again... presuming they have all the pieces," Tony grinned strainedly as he lead the way to the lift and pressed the button for the fourth floor, "welcome to the waiting party Doctor."

**...**

**...**

They pulled up outside the hospital and we out of the cars in seconds before making their way inside and berating the same nurse who had been speaking with Charlie about one hour prior to their arrival. Gibbs and Rossi asked her where their team members were, and her response was quite snotty and very unprofessional for a nurse.

"Look! I've already had to tell one of you people! I don't know exactly where they are, but if I'm guessing correct they're probably on the fourth floor which is the surgical ward and will be in the middle of an operation! Now could you move so that I can treat the patients who come in here with life-threatening problems!" she almost shouted at them and failed to notice the deadly look Ziva was giving her which was closely rivalled by the others.

Gibbs, as much as he would have loved to have let Ziva loose on her, chose to nod and direct the group to the nearest lift. When the doors to the lift opened the group piled in but he waited for everyone else to get in before stepping in and calling out to the nurse, "I hope you I never have to investigate your death ma'am," as the doors slid shut and took them closer to their team-members and friends.


	8. SEVEN

**Okay, since I've changed the format of this fic (you know making the chapters longer by adding the original ones together :P) I've had to try and make this chapter MEGA-LONG which I don't know if I've succeeded at or not.**

**Anyway, read it, review it and even put it on alert just so long as you guys enjoy it.**

**Enjoy**

**Kaseykc**

**..**

**SEVEN**

After four hours of surgery the surgeons working on the team members of each respective team finally came out to the waiting room and asked if there was any family present. Unusually, it seemed that these agents had a very diverse family of varying ages and ethnic backgrounds but the surgeons weren't geneticists and so accepted the assertion that they were indeed all family at face-value; which was a good thing for them really since at least four of the people in the waiting room were fully prepared to use violence to find out how their 'family' were.

"Is anyone closely related to Agent Eppes?" the surgeon who had worked determinedly on Don asked the conglomerate of people in the waiting room. He looked around and waited for a response which seemed hesitant in coming forth, "a brother or sister perhaps?"

Colby and David looked at each other, both hesitating as to whether or not they should answer truthfully or lie and find out about Don; but Charlie was there and they didn't want to upset him. But, their hesitance was unneeded when Charlie stood up and looked at the surgeon directly as he said, "I'm his younger brother."

The surgeon looked at Charlie and everyone else was quiet as the surgeon nodded and began to regale what the hell was wrong with Don, "Mr Eppes, your brother had rather severe internal bleeding which was the result of the event that caused him to end up here-"

"He was in an explosion," Charlie said softly and the surgeon continued, nodding in acknowledgement of Charlie's explanation.

"He also had several cracked and broken ribs; one of which punctured a lung and one of his shoulders was badly dislocated and several of the muscles in his arms have torn and ruptured so he's going to need a lot of physiotherapy; but he should be fine once he wakes up," the surgeon finished smiling slightly at Charlie and everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief that Don was still alive; only Charlie didn't as he looked at the surgeon dangerously calm.

"What do you mean 'once he wakes up'? shouldn't he have been awake by now?" Charlie challenged quietly and the surgeon shifted slightly, somewhat uncomfortable with the intense stare he was receiving.

"Well, the majority of patients normally come around for a little while after surgery but I think it's only the severity of the injuries your brother sustained that have stopped him from waking up momentarily; in the morning he should be recovered enough so that he can wake up and we can check him over for any other injuries," the surgeon explained carefully as the others in the room listened to what he said, "he'll be okay Mr Eppes."

Charlie was silent for a long time before he nodded and sat back down in his seat, trying to process the fact that his brother was alive but unconscious. Colby looked at David and Megan pointedly who both nodded in understanding; Megan moved over and sat down next to Charlie, wrapping a hand around his arm in a comforting gesture as David meandered off towards the coffee machine to get Charlie something other than his hands to star at intensely. Colby looked at the surgeon and said, "thanks doc. What about the others?"

The surgeon looked around the room at everyone and then back at his colleagues pointedly; they nodded and stepped forward as one of them began to talk about the injuries that Reid had suffered, "Agent Reid-"

"Doctor," Morgan cut in suddenly, his voice quiet but not one to be argued with as he looked up at the surgeon from his seat.

"I'm sorry?" the surgeon frowned confused and Emily quickly cut in before Morgan could speak.

"It's Doctor Reid; he has a P.H.D," Emily tried to smile but failed to do so convincingly and the surgeon nodded, understanding what Morgan had meant now.

"My apologies," the surgeon inclined her head and then continued, "Doctor Reid had a lucky escape in surgery; his heart stopped but we were able to get him back again," she consoled the B.A.U team who looked at her frantically; even Hotch, "for the most part the surgery was relatively straight-forward after his earlier arrest. He had internal bleeding; which we corrected, a broken arm; which was a clean break so we've been able to set it, a broken collarbone; which unfortunately will require surgery at a later date to fully correct, but what I was most concerned about and what I think may have caused the cardiac arrest was the three inch piece of shrapnel in his chest which was dangerously close to his aorta. We've removed it," the surgeon held up her hands to stem the questions that she knew were on the lips of the B.A.U team, "and we're monitoring his heart closely; it may or may not have done long-term damage to his cardio-pulmonary system, it's too early to tell at this stage."

"When can we see him?" JJ asked immediately when the surgeon stopped speaking; she looked at the woman desperately and the surgeon felt bad for not being able to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"I'm afraid that you can't see him for the next twenty-four hours since he's in the ICU in the sterile room; meaning no-one other than doctors and nurses can go in there," the surgeon said firmly though not unkindly, "I understand that you're worried about him and you want to see him but it's best if you go home, eat and get some sleep; wait out the twenty-four hours so that you're refreshed and collected for when you can see him."

Morgan couldn't speak, if he could have spoke he probably would have called the surgeon every name he could think of; he just stared in shock at the surgeon who had essentially ordered them to leave Reid and come back tomorrow! How dare this little shrimp of a woman tell him what he could and could not do? Who the hell does she think she is?

"Thank you Doctor..." Hotch said, trailing off as he didn't know the surgeons name; he didn't want to leave Reid but he knew that what she was saying was entirely correct and logical. His only problem would be getting the rest of the team to see it that way.

"Bailey," the female surgeon smiled up at Hotch and then gestured to her two colleagues, "these are Doctors Burke and Sheppard."

The two surgeons nodded as their names were said; the one on Bailey's left was the one who had worked on Don and he looked like an objective, able man who could make snap decisions and could save a life as a result. The one on Bailey's right however; Sheppard, looked like a man who you could rely on for support and was self-assured enough to not have to look arrogant or self-important.

"Doctor Sheppard?" Tony asked as he looked at the surgeon who had yet to speak, Sheppard looked at Tony with a softly questioning gaze which Tony found comforting for some unknown reason, "does that mean you're the one who worked on McGee? Tim?"

Sheppard looked at Tony for a moment before nodding and answering, "yes," he looked at Tony with a sort of knowing look that sort of screamed _'I know you're not family by blood but you're still family' _and Sheppard continued, "he was very lucky that he got here when he did; another ten, fifteen minutes and we might not have been able to save him."

Tony nodded dumbly and felt his knees go weak as his head began to throb, _'ten or fifteen minutes... oh God... what if we'd waited? McGee could be dead now... oh God..._' he fell down into the chair he'd just vacated and Ziva shoved a cup of strong black Coffee into his hands as she looked at Sheppard.

"What is the extent of his injuries?" Ziva asked in the same tone she used whenever she needed to distance herself from something; it was the same tone of voice she'd had when she'd shot Ari and when she'd fought with Tony and things had been strained between them during the time. She couldn't afford to show everyone how she was feeling; it would make her weak and vulnerable and she had been raised to be anything but. So she detached her emotions and, most probably, went into some form of shock/denial that allowed her to be objective and in control.

Sheppard looked at Ziva and answered slowly, looking around the room at the oddest collection of people he'd ever seen, "Special Agent McGee had internal bleeding which was caused by something heavy impacting against his chest; whatever hit him also broke two of his ribs, fractured his right tibia and broke his left arm. But that wasn't what I was there for," Sheppard looked at Ziva and said, "I'm a neurosurgeon; my specified field is the brain."

"Oh God..." Tony groaned as he dropped the cup in his hands; McGee couldn't have brain damage, he couldn't. He just... couldn't! This was McGee the guy was talking about! McGee's brain was one of the most important things about him! He was a genius for Christ's sake! He couldn't have brain damage... he couldn't...

"He had a build up of pressure on his brain and also some intracranial bleeding; if he hadn't have arrived when he did then it is very likely that he would have been brain dead by the time he reached the OR," Sheppard concluded quietly, his voice low and saddened. He didn't want to have to tell these people this, he didn't want to have to explain that their team mate; yes he knew they weren't related to McGee, might not be the same when, _if_, he woke up.

"Can we see him?" Gibbs asked, the first words he'd spoken since he'd walked into the waiting room, and he somehow already knew what the answer would be as Sheppard looked at him sadly.

"I'm afraid not; we've decided that it would be best for Special Agent McGee to be placed in a medically induced coma for the next twenty-four hours to give his brain time to heal; and since he's in the ICU we can't allow too many people to visit him so early on. You can see him in the morning though," Sheppard concluded as he shrugged apologetically at them.

Gibbs nodded in understanding but had to ask, "Can't one of us see him with our own eyes?"

Gibbs guessed it had more to do with the look in his eyes as opposed to the desperation in his voice that convinced Sheppard to let Gibbs see McGee; on the other side of the glass of McGee's room. Gibbs also guessed that because Sheppard had allowed Gibbs to see McGee that Bailey and Burke had no other choice but to let one of the others from each of the teams see their downed agent as well; which didn't really serve to annoy Gibbs since he thought that they had just as much right to see their agents as he did his own.

Charlie was the one who went to see Don and Morgan to see Reid so the three of them; Gibbs, Charlie and Morgan, followed Sheppard silently up to the ICU where he showed them where each of the agents were and told them that they had two minutes to see them; but they couldn't go in the rooms since they wanted to keep them sterile. What with Reid's severe laceration near his heart, Don's shear number of severe injuries and McGee's intracranial bleeding.

**...**

_**...**_

'_Well... this is different...' he thought as he looked around himself, in silent curiosity, at the room he was currently standing in; it seemed somewhat surreal, the fact that he was standing there in this strangely startling white room with its white-wash walls and its tiled floor that looked like it had only just been put down and no-one had dared step upon it for fear of marring its abject luminescence._

"_Where the hell am I?" he asks out loud and he doesn't really expect the walls to answer him, but if he was honest what with the fact that he was obviously dreaming it wouldn't really have surprised him if the walls did answer him._

"_We're in a waiting room of sorts," a female voice answered from behind him, where a door had somehow just appeared literally out of the wall._

_He turned around and looked at the owner of the voice who was sitting in one of the chairs that had also magically appeared; it was strange that things kept on appearing but he guessed that was because it was a dream, but why would Katrine be in his dream?_

"_Why are you in my dream?" he decided to ask out of curiosity, he raised an eyebrow at her when she started to laugh at his question._

"_Oh Agent Eppes; this isn't a dream! This is an actual waiting room," Katrine smiled in amusement and Don suddenly realised something; she wasn't dirty or bloody or covered in cuts and scars. She looked like she had in the photograph that they'd had on the board at HQ; she looked happy and fine._

_The door to Katrine's left opened on its own accord and two figures were unceremoniously dumped onto the floor in front of it. Don moved over to them cautiously before smiling as he realised who the two figures were; Special Agent Timothy McGee and Doctor Spencer Reid._

"_Ow..." McGee muttered as he dragged himself to his feet and stood in front of Don, "where am I?"_

"_Good question," Reid said as he too stood up and looked around the room, "my guess would be a waiting room of sorts."_

"_And you'd be correct Doctor Reid," Katrine smiled as McGee and Reid jumped in surprise; they hadn't even realised she was in the room, "this is a waiting room; and it's not your usual run of the mill either, of that I can assure you."_

"_You act like you've been here before," McGee commented frowning in confusion at Katrine who smiled enigmatically at him, "but I still don't get where _here_ is."_

_In fact, only one of them had any sort of inkling of where they actually were; except for Katrine of course but she was excluded from the confusion since she'd long since passed the point where she was confused when in this waiting room. It is afterall, natural for the brain to recognise something easier and quicker after repeated exposure; it's probably why people need higher dosages of drugs over a time, they get used to the effects and the feeling doesn't last as long as it did the first time._

"_Alright," Katrine sighed dramatically, "since none of you have decided to think of anything outside the box of conventional thought I suppose I should explain what exactly is occurring at this precise moment in time as best I can," she leant back in the chair she was in and rested her head against the wall, "essentially my boys; we're in limbo."_

_There. Simple. One word. Three confused looks and one exasperated speaker._

"_You have heard of the experiences of people who have near-death experiences correct?" she looked at each of them and was satisfied when they nodded affirmative, "good. Well then, since you're familiar with the concept maybe you'll realise where we are; we are all near-death and yes that's an absolute fact otherwise we all wouldn't be here in this room. The only reason we're not dead yet and we're waiting around is because some of us might make it and others won't; it all depends on an almost infinite number of variables which I'm not even going to go into since it'll only serve to give me a headache."_

_Reid and McGee looked at each other silently wondering what the heck she was on about; they themselves probably had some idea what she was saying but their minds didn't want to comprehend it since the concept was so... surreal and they didn't like surreal all that much._

_Don however was silent as he stared at Katrine, waiting for her to get to the point but not wanting to cut in and annoy her; he doubted that British people were as direct and boring as Americans, they had a thing for dramatics so he'd might as well let her have her moment. It was the least the kid deserved after everything she'd been through in such a short time._

"_Anyway; this is the waiting room for whatever room we're on in the hospital so there will be others who will pass through. Some may stay awhile but most will probably come in one door and be out the other before you even have a chance to think about it; it's just the way some things work I'm afraid," Katrine sighed and rubbed her forehead with her left hand which didn't hold any scars or burns and the skin was so smooth and pale that it made Don feel sad that if she woke up that she'd forever have to live with her scars, "some of us might last and go through the right door but I think at least one of us isn't going to make it since I've never really known everyone in a waiting room to survive; I think it might be some sort of a cosmic rule or something like that."_

_When Katrine stopped thinking the three men in the room stared at her in silence as each of them tried to process what she'd just told them all and Katrine saw this; smiling at them she laughed and said in amusement, "I know it's a lot to take-in in one go; it took me a few visits here to figure it all out so if you get this all now then you should be proud of yourselves."_

_Reid licked his lips nervously and said, his voice high and quiet, "I think I might have been here before..." he looked at McGee and Don, who were now staring at him in absolute confusion, and then at Katrine, who was looking at him thoughtfully; it made Reid feel like he was a puzzle for her to figure out now._

"_Really?" Don asked dubiously as he raised an eyebrow in the same act that Reid had come to recognise as a tell for Don; he did it whenever he was secretly shocked, disbelieving, or annoyed at someone or something._

_Reid answered quickly, his speech becoming faster as he tried to explain himself as quickly as possible to try and get them to move on from their focus on him, "I'm not entirely sure but I have this vague recollection of being in a room like this but it-" Reid hesitated for a moment before continuing, "but it was darker than this."_

_Katrine was still watching Reid intently and asked softly, "you died in a traumatising experience didn't you?" she watched Reid's response and wasn't at all surprised when he looked up at her in shock and his already pale face went an even paler shade of white._

"_How did you know?" Reid asked, feeling weak in the knees; no-one but his team knew that he'd really died when he'd been... there... and there was no way that she could know that, so how?_

"_You forget Doctor Reid," Katrine smiled sadly as she answered, "I've had more than my fair share of traumatising deaths in the last few months."_

"_Oh... right..." Reid nodded suddenly realising that that was why she'd known he'd died in such a way, "I was... uh, kidnapped by an unsub who had split personalities," Reid's voice grew quieter as he spoke, "the dominant personality; Raphael, threatened to shoot me unless I choose a person for him to kill, but the unsub's father was another personality and he killed me..." Reid breathed, his entire body shuddering slightly and Don wanted to give the kid a hug because to Don he was just a kid; but this kid had been through way too much from what he was hearing now, no-one should be killed by a madman. No-one, "Tobias; he was the submissive personality was the one who saved me. He gave me CPR," Reid smiled a ghost of a smile which only Katrine noticed as she continued to observe Reid, "I had to shoot him when Raphael had me digging my own grave," Reid's voice took on a slight hysterical giggle to it but it died quickly, "my team found me... next to the dead body of my tormentor and my saviour."_

_Katrine didn't speak, didn't move but her eyes held within them a million thoughts and feelings that were more powerful than any words she could speak for when Reid met her gaze he saw understanding; he saw comprehension; he saw empathy; but he didn't not see pity and it was the first time Reid hadn't seen it in a person's gaze when he told them of what had happened to him during those two, long days._

_There was silence in the waiting room as no-one dared to speak and break the spell of sad acceptance that had settled upon them; they were either stood or sitting and staring at either each other or at the wall so when the door nearest to them opened with an audible BANG they all jumped. And when three figures; partially obscured by a strange mist that surrounded them, came through the doors and made their way directly towards the other door, which had opened upon its own accord, none of them moved or spoke for fear of drawing the attention of the figures who passed through the door and faded from existence._

_It was a full minute before any of them moved or spoke and the first words out of Don's mouth were, "what the _hell_ was that!"_

_Now that the spell which had been weaved by Reid's story was broken Katrine smiled at Don and answered in her annoyingly British voice, with plenty of sarcasm added to it for effect, "well, if you'd listened to what I'd said earlier then you'd know," Katrine sighed and explained, the sarcasm tempered, "what you just saw was the moving on of, I'd say, three people whose lives were most certainly over; this place is limbo remember, people pass through this room on their way to the lift that takes them either up or down."_

"_Oh..." McGee whispered as he lowered himself into a chair three seats down from Katrine and stared at the door the figures had gone through, "guess that's a normal occurrence around here then?"_

"_I suppose so since we're in a hospital and people come here to either live or die," Katrine answered matter-of-factly and McGee looked at her amazed at how insensitive she was being, "I'm not being insensitive; I'm being realistic Special Agent McGee. I'm a realistic person and I abhor ignoring the obvious just because social etiquette deems the mentioning of it to be taboo."_

_Katrine looked at McGee challengingly as she continued, "what you think is insensitive I think is perfectly acceptable; I'm not of the norm Special Agent and I don't want to be; if I was of the norm I doubt I would have been able to have survived what that pathetically insecure waste of human excrement did to me for over three months."_

_McGee blinked, startled at the sheer authority in Katrine's voice and tried to think of something to say in apology but he couldn't think of anything so he just asked, "do all Brits sound that authorative or is that just you?"_

_Katrine stared at McGee whilst Don smirked at his question and, just when McGee thought he'd stepped over some invisible line when Katrine smiled at him and answered, "I think it's part of being British Special Agent; maybe you Americans will one day master the skill of sounding absolutely self-assured when saying anything, even if it's a load of cock-and-bull."_

_Don laughed and Reid smiled at McGee who breathed a sigh of relief and smiled also, "I'll bear that in mind Miss Quilks."_

"_Please Special Agent, it's Katrine; Miss Quilks is my mother who's thirty and divorced," Katrine smiled impishly and McGee laughed._

"_Then I'm either McGee or Tim, whichever you prefer," McGee smiled at Katrine who nodded in understanding and she looked at Reid and Don who were laughing quietly._

"_Just call me Don," Don said before she could ask and Katrine inclined her head in acknowledgement._

"_Reid," Reid piped up as he ran a hand through his messy hair which kept on falling down into his eyes; making it harder for him to see properly, "or Spencer if you don't like last names."_

"_Reid is fine, Doctor," Katrine assured him as Reid nodded and sat down, "so..." Katrine looked around at them, suddenly serious, "what we going to do to pass the time huh?"_

**..**

**TBC...**

**I do so like cliff-hangers, so sue me (actually on second thoughts, don't sue me... I'm only a poor fic writer after all :P)**

**I don't actually know when I'll be updating this, but I can tell you this; I do actually have a plan for the next chapter so at least I won't be sitting at my laptop thinking 'what the hell am I going to write about now?' lol.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and prefer the changed chapter format; I like them longer since it makes it look better ;)**

**Kaseykc**


	9. EIGHT

**Right. This is the latest chapter – fantastically enough this has been RE-WRITTEN to Mark Owen songs (he is just so cute!). The saddest part of this entire thing is the fact that I'd actually written this chapter before but apparently I either didn't save the file *facepalm* or I deleted it *facepalm plus bullet to the head* Yeah, and I call myself intelligent... -_-**

**So, anyway, this is finally done and I'm working on the ninth chapter too so that I can have this wrapped up within the next few days – it's the least I can do after I left you all in limbo for well over three months... I'm not that consistent a writer really am I? Do. Not. Answer. That. :p**

**Now, read. Enjoy. Review. And listen to Mark Owen – he's a brilliant singer and song-writer, quite under-appreciated in my opinion. XD**

**Kasey**

**...**

**EIGHT**

Sometimes it's hard, it's so very hard, to control how you feel about something in front of someone – no-one can empirically say that they've never had a problem with their emotions; that is, unless they're a sociopath and can't understand the concept of emotions as being nothing more than annoying trivialities that people should seriously find a way around if they want to become truly enlightened. Kind of ironic though since most people are so very obsessed with how they feel, it's always "I feel like this" and "I feel like that" but no-one bothers with the "I think that this" and "I think that that". It's always feelings, and it's so very sickening, so very constricting to the brilliance of the thought process that few ever bother to employ, that when one person does employ it, they are ridiculed, hated, bullied, ostracised and targeted by the ones who do the same – but they don't have the constraints that one abides by still.

Katrine's life had been filled with these sorts of thing – she was odd, odd in society's opinion at least, and she didn't put much stock in society; the bias sod that it was – and as she had grown up she had quickly caught onto the fact that if she acted like an oddball then she'd be ostracised – so she did what anyone with enough intelligence and maturity would have done; she adapted to become what society necessitated her to be. She didn't say inappropriate things at the wrong time, she didn't outwardly deem the irrationality of emotions to be irrelevant and she most definitely didn't upstage those who have less about them than a plank of wood yet had positions of power over her. All-in-all she was a normal, everyday, average girl who had a bit of a gift for things that required forethought and planning – but even then she made sure she measured herself, paced herself so that she didn't draw too much attention. However, she was protective of people she became associated with – how else was she to form friendships that would give her both status and protection?

It may sound heartless but, in all honesty, whenever a person forms a bond, connection, association, friendship, all they're really doing is giving into the selfish urge not to be alone, to have protection, to have support. Nothing that a human ever does is truly, in all entirety, for others – there is always, always, an underlying reason that relates in some way, shape or form to the person themselves and their own nature; which is actually selfish because no-one is truly a giver. We only give when we know that we will receive something, it may be money, it may be gratitude, it may be friendship but we never do anything unless it is – in some way – advantageous to us. Humanity is selfish – it's as simple as that.

Or is it?

What if some people, on rare occasions, stand nothing to gain – not physically at least, which is what they put their stock in? Can a person who has nothing do something for another even when, for all intents and purposes, nothing good will come for them? Can a person sacrifice everything they know, everything they are, for a stranger? Can a person give their life to ensure that another lives – without believing that they will be rewarded in the next life?

Most likely the answer to this would be a resounding NO for the majority of the human species but, there are those few, those oddballs, those freaks and weirdo's that are so far removed from society and its constrained views that are willing to give everything they have and everything they are just so another person can take another breath and go about their daily, controlled, meticulous routine in their menial existence wherein they are a soldier to nothing and servant to capitalism.

Katrine Quilks is one such oddball.

**...**

**...**

"_So..." McGee drawled slowly looking around them. "What do we do?" He focused his question at Katrine, since she was the one with experience in this whole... situation._

_Katrine shrugged. "Nothing really. We've just got to wait." She said simply as she moved over towards one of the chairs that was situated half-way between the two door. "I've never really been in here longer than a few... well, I guess it'd be a few hours out in reality." She frowned slightly at that. "At least I think it might be a few hours. I don't know exactly, but time isn't all that relative here – I feel so sorry for Einstein."_

_Reid and McGee smiled at Katrine's comment and Don frowned slightly, but he didn't say anything – sometimes though, sometimes it would be nice to know who this 'Einstein' guy actually is; Larry always gave him a headache when he talked about him like some love-sick teenager._

"_Well then." Don said as he went and sat down on one of the chairs opposite Katrine. "What else can you tell us about this place? Anything at all." He doubted she could really tell them anything more than what she'd already told them but he could hope couldn't he._

_Katrine sighed dramatically and fixed Don with quite an intense stare as she said sarcastically. "I can tell you that the interior decorator needs to be shot and someone with fashion sense and style should be brought here to fix the place up." She smiled sweetly at Don before becoming serious and Don was shocked at how different she looked when she went from childish and sarcastic to calm and mature. It was kind of disconcerting for the FBI agent._

"_There is little more I can tell you about this place. For me, it's normally always empty – most likely because I was on my own with little or no death-traffic in the immediate area. The only reason I know that this place is 'Limbo' for this floor is because all the Limbo's seem to look like waiting rooms – most likely it's got something to do with the fact that people hate waiting around in these places so maybe the psychology behind this manifestation of Limbo is to try and get people to hurry up; whatever way they go." Katrine said softly as she stared at the ceiling, her eyebrows knitted together as she thought about it all. "You know, that would make quite an interesting research paper – Limbo: The Waiting Room of Psychological Thought... or something like that." She blinked and refocused her gaze on Don. "Honestly Don, there's nothing more I can tell you. The best I can do now is argue with you about the most philosophical thing imaginable."_

"_Okay." Don said slowly. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he tried to think. "Fine. Do that then." He declared suddenly and he noticed that Katrine stared at him with open surprise._

"_I'm sorry if I sound a little bit dense by saying this but." Katrine started. "What?" She stared at Don, feeling surprised and confused as to what he was on about. Did he want her to discuss philosophical things or just shut-up? She wasn't sure but she actually wanted it to be the former of those two – she'd never found anyone to have a real philosophical debate with. There never is anyone willing to argue with her for extended periods of time. _

_Don smiled crookedly at her and said, slowly and with deliberation. "Argue with us about something philosophical. It'll help pass the time."_

"_Oh! I know what we could discuss!" Reid exclaimed suddenly as he slipped into a seat about three down from Katrine, closer to the door back to reality. "We could discuss the conceptions of society and the ideals of democracy."_

"_Or we could discuss the concept of a cyber-society. The Cyborg Manifesto." McGee said as he sat down next to Don, also closer to the door back to reality. "It's one of my favourite philosophical ideas." He grinned shyly, surprised with himself that he'd admitted that and he caught Katrine smiling humorously at him._

"_First off. I think you're scaring Don you two." Katrine said, laughing slightly as they looked at Don who was staring at them all with surprise – he honestly hadn't expected the Doctor and NCIS agent to be philosophy-nerds. "Second of all. Whilst I love arguing and belittling society Reid, I highly doubt that discussion will end well. And third. McGee. The Cyborg Manifesto is one of the things that I spent a month arguing about with my philosophy teacher back in the UK – he didn't talk to me for a month after I showed him up in the class. And besides – if we advanced so far as to how technological-based bodies then we'd be less than a micro-step away from Terminator; with interest." She smiled at McGee who blushed slightly and looked away in embarrassment. "Also, there's the fact that none of what you've just suggested really has any bearing on what we're going through right here, right now. So, perhaps – with that in mind – maybe we should discuss something that has some bearing on our present situation?" _

_There was silence as Katrine waited for them to think of something to talk about, but it was broken by McGee when he said. "You've just destroyed my dreams in seconds when it's taken Tony years to even know I had any." McGee looked at Katrine and smirked at her humorously. "Tony's going to hate you for that one." _

_Katrine laughed softly and smiled at McGee as she said. "I don't think so. Tony will absolutely adore me when I teach him how to find out everyone's secrets in ten minutes." She laughed again at McGee's horrified face and couldn't help but adding. "Of course, I might just tell him yours – you know, to save him the bother of trying to drag yours out of you." _

_McGee glared at her in mock annoyance and Katrine laughed again, as did Reid and Don. "Bully." McGee huffed as he faked a look of hurt. _

"_Maybe we should talk about human nature?" Reid said softly in the lull that had developed after Katrine and McGee's silly little moment. "It has bearing on our present situation and also it's quite philosophical." He looked at Katrine, tucking a loose stand of hair behind his ear as he did so. "What about it?"_

_Don smiled slightly and nodded, as did McGee. "Alright." Katrine said as she positioned herself on her seat so that her legs were tucked under her and she placed her fingertips together, which made her look like she was trying to pray but without the palms of her hands touching. It was odd but at the same time it wasn't._

"_Let's get going then." Katrine smiled slightly as she placed her prayer-positioned hands under her chin and looked directly at Reid. "What's your starting point?"_

_Reid blinked and floundered for a moment before saying. "According to some of the most poignant philosophers, such as Thomas Hobbes who wrote The Leviathan, human nature is essentially selfish, murderous and corrupt – he argues that for society to evolve we need a power which can control us; he uses the concept of a social contract which would invest power in a single person, who would have absolute control over people – much like a King or Dictator might – so that no-one could rebel, or try to challenge and dissolve the power of the state they'd live in."_

_Don stared at Reid and said, slowly. "I'm sorry but... what?" His eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise and he just stared at Reid, absolutely confounded by what Reid had just said. _

"_Basically, the philosopher Thomas Hobbes believed that because people are monsters, and would kill each other for a grain of rice, we need a ruler to control the mass – like a King – because without one then we'd be running on instinct; our survival would be paramount so development couldn't occur, we'd be like cave-men without the capacity for fire or society. Hobbes believed that only an absolute state, ran by a ruler who couldn't be challenged, could give people peace of mind and safety so that we could develop and advance." Katrine explained evenly as she stared at Reid. "However, Hobbes was quite the narrow-minded fellow. A scaremonger who seemed to enjoy terrorising the masses with the concept of hell on earth if we didn't follow a King who didn't know what dirt was."_

_Reid blinked and said carefully. "I guess you're not a fan of Hobbes then?" The glare he received answered his question and he smirked slightly as Katrine huffed and went off on a spectacular rant._

"_Well, I doubt I'm going to be a fan of a man who believed in an absolute dictatorship, he probably would have loved Hitler the bigamist fool; he had no real understanding of the way society works – he just wanted to keep the monarchy in power in my country just so he could keep his comfy little life-style and have control over his slaves. He didn't want a change in the status quo and that's how advancement is stunted in the human species – if we didn't change then we'd still be stupid cave-men, and no I'm not including women in that because men are the fools on this planet – and in fact, if we didn't change and advance then women would still be in the kitchen doing the bidding of egotistical, megalomaniacs!" Katrine retorted throwing her arms up as she tried to empathise her point and she looked at three men who were staring at her in equal measures of shock. "I prefer Locke's theory – even if it's a bit too naive for me; he doesn't seem to consider the fact that people do selfish things all the time but he does mention the concept of cooperation to ensure survival." Katrine took a breath and Reid watched as her shoulders relaxed, which told him that she was calming down so he took that as the sign to continue talking._

"_Locke is too naive and he assumes that there will be plenty of resources that everyone can share fairly and equally – but as you said, he doesn't take into account the fact that people like to have more than they do so they take more than is necessary." Reid pointed out as he tucked another strand of hair behind his ear again – he really did hate his hair sometimes._

"_Yes but at least with Locke you can put more stock in humanity than what Hobbes does!" Katrine exclaimed as she waved a hand dramatically. "Hobbes seems to focus more on the positives of an absolute state rule than taking into account the negatives of such a state, he ignores the adverse affects that can be produced; affects to people's behaviour and thought process! Locke, though he's naive, can at least be reasoned with since he still understands the idea of the necessity of a state with some measure of power, however, he also states that the people have the right to rebel against a tyrant! Hobbes doesn't." Katrine finished as she leaned back and crossed her arms as she stared expectantly at Reid._

_Just as Reid was about to answer the little light that was situated directly over one of the doors lit up and there was a sharp intake of breath as they stared at it in surprise. None of them spoke, indeed none of them dared to breathe as they stared at the light and Katrine watched closely – waiting for a number to show up. She wasn't disappointed._

"_Two." McGee stated, reading the blinking word. "What does that mean?" He looked around at them but his eyes settled on Katrine who rose slowly from her seat and moved over towards the door, her footfalls silent and cautious._

"_Come here." She said softly, her voice carrying an authority that none of them challenged as they all silently rose and moved over so that they were standing beside her. "It would seem that for two of us there is a bus ride home so I would highly suggest that two of you head through now, whilst you still have the chance."_

"_What?" Reid exclaimed._

"_No! I won't go if you're still here!" McGee declared._

"_I'm not going to leave you guys here." Don said firmly._

"_Oh heavens... they're a chivalrous lot." Katrine sighed rolling her eyes. "Would two of you please decide to walk through that door already! I haven't got all day and I do have plans!" _

_Reid looked at her disbelievingly. "I'm not going to go through this door when you're younger and have more of life ahead of you – you could make a difference to the world, you could save dozens of lives that might not be saved if you don't go through now."_

"_Oh don't be so dramatic. There is a high probability that my continued existence will have no true impact upon the human race since it is blind luck or opportunity that allows for discoveries and advancements – if I die today, someone else may write a novel I had planned, or discover a cure for cancer that's lurking in my brain somewhere. It doesn't matter if I live or die – it just matters that the idea survives." Katrine argued as she stared directly at Reid who was frowning at her._

"_Do you really think so little of yourself?" Reid asked softly, watching her sadly. "Do you really think that you're worthless, that you don't matter?"_

"_Irrelevant at this present moment in time Doctor Reid." Katrine snapped as she ran a hand through her loose hair in obvious frustration. "Right. Decide amongst yourselves which two are going through because I don't want to have to deal with it. And before your say anything – no, I'm not going through yet because I don't want to go through yet. This is the only time in my potential future existence where I won't see scars when I look at my arms."_

_The three men watched in silence as Katrine stalked off over towards her seat and sat back down, hunched over and staring at her hands which were clasped in front of her. She looked like she was worn out and tired, world-weary Don thought. They all looked at each other in obvious embarrassment and worry for the young girl – they hadn't meant to upset her or aggravate her but they had principles and one of them meant that they couldn't, wouldn't, leave when there was a young, innocent person around who they had spent days looking for. They weren't the kind of people to do that._

"_Right." Don said quietly. "I'm the oldest here and technically I have the highest rank so I'm staying – part of the job. One of you and Katrine will be going through so I guess you'll have to come to some sort of conclusion because I don't want to order one of you to stay here just encase you don't get another chance." Don rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache beginning to form and sighed tiredly._

"_I don't think that's a very logical, or fair, method to decide who stays or goes Don." Reid said as he turned to look at the door. "I mean, it's not as if none of us want to return but due to the number limitation it makes it harder for us to choose so we're going to have to find a way of agreeing on who goes and who stays. And you ordering us or asking us isn't really going to work. We're all too stubborn."_

"_Right." McGee agreed as he too turned to look at the door and he sighed. "I want to go but at the same time I don't want to. I don't want to go through and then find out that one of you, or all of you, didn't make it – I'd feel so selfish if that happened."_

"_Well live with it Tim!" Katrine said suddenly as she ran into McGee and Reid and, using sheer will, propelled them towards the door - only letting go of them when she knew that they wouldn't be able to stop their momentum._

"_KATRINE!" Reid exclaimed just as he and McGee disappeared through the door._

_Don stared at Katrine in shock and could only continue to stare as she turned to him and said calmly. "Well that's far better isn't it? Nice and quiet."_

_**...**_

_**...**_

_**To Be Continued**_

**When I finish the next chapter – and it might even be the LAST chapter... oh dear... **

**Now peeps! REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!**

**Champagne kisses just to taste the rain... *swoon* I really like that line... (just ignore that bit please – it's best for your sanity if you do so :p)**

**Kasey xx**


	10. NINE

**Wow! It's the latest chapter (and I apologise in advance for the shortness of it, but I can't really add any more to it without completely ruining the next chapter and epilogue. Sorry)**

**Anyway, I've finally got around to actually completing this chapter (happy dance!) and I've also got around to throwing it up on FF for all you people to read. You're the best reviewers I've ever had because you've waited for me to actually update! :D**

**Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this chapter and will shout at me repeatedly until I finish the next chapter :p**

**Kasey xx**

* * *

...

* * *

**Chapter Nine

* * *

**

**...**

* * *

"DOCTOR!" A loud voice screeched and tore through him as he coughed and fought against the foreign object lodged in his throat. "DOCTOR! HE'S AWAKE!"

"Hold him still please." Another voice, softer and far more controlled and affirmative echoed around him – so much softer compared to the harpy – and he coughed feeling like he was choking; he couldn't breathe, not with this thing in his throat. They were trying to kill him! Silence him! She was right! They were all against him! No! No...

"Doctor Reid. Doctor Reid, please – if you can hear me I need you to calm down. You're in hospital and you have an intubation tube in your throat to help you breathe." The voice came again, soft but still authorative and Reid slowly began to calm – reason reasserting itself and chasing away the irrational thoughts that always came to the fore when he panicked. "That's good Doctor Reid. That's good. Alright."

Soothing. That's what it was, the sound of someone talking to him, in the real world was comforting and soothing... so soothing that he drifted off into a sleep. A Sleep without dreams. A sleep that would pass the time so that it would be all over before he awoke again.

* * *

**...**

* * *

"Doc... I think his hand twitched..." Tony whispered, almost terrified to believe himself. It had been two days since the explosion and it was like someone had hit a switch because that Reid kid had woken up and now McGee was doing the same. He could only hope that this luck would extend to Eppes as well.

It was almost like a miracle was being performed before them, some supernatural feat that none of them could control or understand and it scared Tony. It scared him because he was terrified of what would happen when the miracle turned nasty. He was waiting with baited breathe as the doctor checked McGee over and returned to Tony, and the recently assembled Ziva and Gibbs who had literally flew to the hospital from the hotel they'd been staying at.

"Well. I honestly don't know how this is possible, but Agent McGee is currently in the process of coming out of a coma." The doctor said softly, his eyes reflecting his surprise as the NCIS team breathed a sigh of relief. "I've never had a patient wake up so soon after such a myriad of injuries. You're agent must be very determined to wake up Agent Gibbs."

"Probably doesn't want you giving him a head slap boss?" Tony managed to crack, the euphoria of knowing McGee was waking up over-riding his concern for the big nasty part of the whole miracle business. Gibbs gave Tony a look but it wasn't the usual 'shut-up-Dinozzo' look, in fact, if Tony had to guess he'd say it was pure joy at knowing McGee was waking up.

"Or perhaps he's concerned about you trying to 'hack' into his user again, Tony?" Ziva teased as she poked Tony in the side making him jump a little at the contact. He looked at her and saw that her previously closed-off and drawn face was now alight with joy and happiness and relief. He smirked his usual charming smirk and shoved her softly with his shoulder which she took to be a reassuring gesture as opposed to a threatening one; thank God for him.

"Well. I'm happy to tell you that he's resting naturally now. He'll be asleep for most of the day and night I think, judging by the severity of his injuries that is. I'm guessing he'll be awake and alert enough by tomorrow afternoon; which I think is roughly the same time as Doctor Reid is estimated to be awake too." The doctor explained with a smile gracing his features making him seem younger and more approachable than he normally looked. "Quite the miracle pair those two."

"McMiracle." Tony quipped causing Ziva to laugh suddenly. "I like it." He grinned as Ziva swotted him lightly on the arm and Gibbs gave him the lightest head smack in the history of head smacks. "I'll get Abb's to make a banner for his workstation."

* * *

**...**

* * *

"_They're not going to be happy with you, you know?" Don said as he watched Katrine walk across the waiting room to throw herself down in her preferred seat. He moved over to sit down on the seat next to her and leant forward so that his elbows were resting on his knees as he looked sideways at her. "In fact, I think they'll probably torture you with Hobbesian philosophies till you go insane."_

"_Pfft!" Katrine snorted and waved a hand airily. "As if they could drive me insane, there's no sanity left in this scarred mind of mine Don. There hasn't been for a long time but the world's been too blind to notice." Katrine slouched back in her seat and Don suddenly had the sense that she'd aged a few decades in a few seconds; she seemed to be tired and worn-out, but she also seemed to be shrinking, like she was collapsing in on herself and Don didn't like it for a second. "People rush about like crazed, speed-taking ants, that can't bear to stop and smell the scent of car exhausts and gas cookers. Their nine-to-five jobs require them to rush-rush-rush with no real concern for preference or comfort or individuality. The moment we're born, from the cradle to the grave, we are brought up in a manner so as to 'prepare' us for a nine-to-five lifestyle. All forms of individuality is steadily rolled out of a personality and in its place a common code of 'conform, work, conform, work' is thrown into the fray so as to turn us in to flesh and blood automatons. It's despicable but it's humanity as it is now. And I'm not cut out for that sort of lifestyle. I swim against the flow of the water in the river and I'm drowning under its sheer force as it beats me down more and more the further along I get." Don blinked suddenly as Katrine threw herself forward in her seat so that she too was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her head tilted sideways so she could fix Don with a pointed stare. "I'm young, I'm just kid the world says. But the world doesn't see that my age counts for nothing when it is my experiences that dictate just how long, just how good or bad I am. I've done a lot of things in my short life, probably as much as you have if not more, and that's not because of anything other than environment. I'm not a good person, but nor am I a bad one, and I truly don't matter in the grand scale of things; I'm as expendable to progress as a blade of grass is in a golf field. I don't matter. I never really will. But history recalls people more than it does development, which is a laughable and damn near hangable offense in my opinion."_

_Don opened his mouth to speak but Katrine raise a hand to still him and said, her voice low and resigned. "What I'm trying, and failing miserably, to say Don is this. I don't matter. I never have and never will. It's sad, it's something that'll make people want to hug me and tell me that I matter and so on and so forth. But reality wins in my world. I do not matter. I don't think little of myself, in fact I think quite the opposite; I value my mind and my personality immensely because it allows me to realise my own importance in the grand scheme of existence. However. I might not matter." _

_Don watched as Katrine stood up and she motioned for him to stand as well, which is dutifully did as he held his tongue and followed her over to the door to the 'living' world. "I don't matter. But what I've done, what I've said, and what I do and say now does matter. And I want you to do make me a promise Don; you don't have to say you will because I know you will, you're that kind of person. But I want you to promise me that you will go to the last place I was held and look for a small hole in the ground, which I covered with two planks of wood – I don't know if it's still covered because of that explosion but one can only hope. And I want you to take what's hidden there and I want you to share it with Spencer and Tim – and their teams too. And I want you to send a copy of it to my parents; though please black out the most... traumatic of things that have occurred to me in the recent past please. I want them to not join me any time soon."_

"_Katrine." Don said, his voice low and almost pleading, as he realised what she was doing; she was telling him goodbye. And damn it because he hated her for doing it and he hated himself for finding himself unable to argue with her. She was too logical about it all, too organised in her explanation and it made him want to shake her and act like she was freaking out – because he knew that she was but she wouldn't dare show him that because he knew that she knew that he'd force her through the door and damn it... Just damn it._

"_No." Katrine said firmly, stopping whatever protest Don was planning to unleash. "You haven't got much time Don and I just wanted you to know one other thing." She paused for a second and took a breath before looking him directly in the eye with the firmest and more determined gaze he'd ever seen. "Your ability to understand your adversary, though sickening, is not a weakness and it does not mean you are in any way, shape or form as much a monster as they are. It just means that, unlike the majority of humanity, your ability to adapt to your surroundings applies to your thought process also. You are able to alter your thought pattern which enables you to save people. It's scary and it's weird and it's down-right terrifying at times but it's brilliant when it saves someone, when it helps you find a madman and know almost before he does that he's going to pull that trigger and you save people by stopping him before he can do more harm."_

_Don felt his eyes starting to water as a torrent of emotions swirled within him. How could this girl read him so damn well? No-one, not ever experienced profilers could do that and here she was, explaining to him that his own fears and disgust with how he was wrong. "How do-"_

"_You're not the only one who can read people naturally Don. The difference is I'm no longer afraid to use it as it has rightly been bestowed upon me as; a tool, a gift. I've had every thought running through my head since I was young, just like you, and I know for a fact now that this is the best tool I've ever had. It may have got me some unwanted attention but by God it saved me long enough for me to find you and the others. It saved me long enough for me to help you." Katrine smiled brightly as her eyes shone with tears and Don couldn't help it, he smiled as she hugged him tightly. _

_They stood like that for a long moment before Don's ears picked up the sound of something, something which he recognised, and before he could say or do anything he heard Katrine whisper. "I'm sorry Don." And the next thing he knew was Katrine had sneaked a foot around the back of his right heel and dragged it out from under him, causing him to fall backwards as she turned him so that he fell through the door._

_The last thing he saw before he was engulfed in a wall of white light was Katrine's face looking apologetic but determined as she held onto the door frame._

_And then the white went black._

* * *

**...**

* * *

It was quiet. And it was late, judging by the fact that his eyelids let in no light and there was nothing covering his face to inhibit the light. So, it was quiet and it was late. It was probably sometime around midnight, past visiting hours but too early to be time for the early nurse rounds. He tried to open his eyes but he found that he didn't have the energy required to drag his eyelids back and so he settled with straining his hearing and listening to the various ambient sounds around him.

There was beeping, rhymic and in time with his heart beat so he guessed it was the heart monitor. It sounded like it was to his immediate left, probably no more than an arm's length away from his bed. There was also the slight and incredibly drowned-out sound of rushing traffic, which told him he was somewhere near a freeway – or a very busy main road. That told him that he was in one of the bigger more important hospitals and that his injuries had to be serious. Very serious.

He could hear his own breathing, and he tried to swallow but he winced reflectively in slight discomfort as he realised that, up until recently, he'd had a breathing tube in; and damn did he hate those things. To him his own breathing sounded a bit laboured, like it was hard for him to take in oxygen, and he attempted to take a deeper breath only to wince at a sudden flaring of pain along his side. Ribs. Damn ribs.

Feeling like he was more aware of the world around him, he tried again to open his damn uncooperative eyes, and he was rewarded when his eyelids drew back and allowed him an unimpeded view of the ceiling; albeit a slightly fuzzy view. A small smile graced his face and he focused now on getting his hands to move in a more coordinated manner than random twitching. A couple of intense, thought-filled seconds later and he had enough muscle dexterity in his right hand to enable him to hit a switch on the little remote which someone had placed in his hand at some point. God bless that person.

No more than a minute later a doctor entered his room and blinked in shock as they realised that he was awake. They smiled warmly at him and said. "Agent Eppes. I'm glad to see you awake."

Don smiled widely, or as widely as he possibly could, and managed to croak out. "Not as glad as I am doc."

* * *

**...**

* * *

_**To Be Continued... when I get around to it ;)**_


	11. Epilogue

**At long last I've managed to get around to this chapter. I know I completely neglected this fic but I've remedied that with this chapter which, incidentally, happens to be the last one in this fic.**

**And I've got to say. This has been quite the ride for me; especially when most of what I write in **_**'Katrine's' **_**voice is what I think/feel/see. It's quite a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions for me as the author. I hope that that's translated to you, my dear readers also. **

**Now. I must love you and leave you so that I can slumber away for seven hours! College tomorrow.**

**Kasey**

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

To any who are brave enough to venture into the cage of which I have been held for many a day...

_**I'm not going to be fancy with my words now. There's no point. I'm going to die. That's obvious; I have been kidnapped by a relatively crazy person who has already left me with scars, what's murder to such a fellow hm?**_

_**I've seen a lot in my short, very short, life and I'm thankful for every moment of it – the good, the bad and the downright ugly (so I like Clint Eastwood who cares?). Everything in my life up till now, I think, has been a build-up; like life has been preparing me for this moment, but for what reason? Aren't I meant to expect to go through all sorts of hells and nightmares in order to be able to better face the adult world? I'm not even an adult! I'm technically a young adult. I'm not meant to be able to come to terms with death. I'm not meant to be so accepting of dying such a horrid and painful death as I'm quite sure is waiting for me. But I do. I am. I think I accepted my fate the moment I woke up a prisoner. A victim. Another statistic. **_

_**Oh. I do so hate being a 'statistic' – it's one of those "I'm a woman! Not a number!" things, which I think is from a show my dad watches... The Prisoner, I think it's called. It's about a guy who's stuck on an island where he's given the designation, "Six" (If I'm remembering this correctly), and he does everything he can to try and escape and such. I don't know if he ever does; I never watched more than three episodes with him. I'm guessing that he does; most shows have a happy, go-lucky ending don't they? It's either every episode that ends with the sun shining and birds singing, or every other episode. And when a show has had its day and is finishing for good they always, always have some dramatically moving and very cheery type of thing. It's almost like we fool ourselves into thinking that, at the end of anything, it will be all sunshine and roses... how foolishly human of us. **_

_**Sometimes I don't feel human.**__** Sometimes I feel like I'm an alien or someone from a different time. The way kids are raised these days kind of sickens me. It's not so much how the media, or parents, or teachers even, convey us – the next generation "the future!" – that bothers me. It's the peer pressure that is rampant wherever the hell you happen to go. From Washington DC to London Town and Istanbul every single child is subject to peer pressure. Granted; culture, tradition and religion can play major roles in how a child ends up as but, if you exclude these factors then, the most prevalent, the most diverse and often most destructive reason for children being such... nightmares, is all down to children themselves. Ten years ago you wouldn't have seen a young, six or seven year old girl, wearing a mini-skirt, but nowadays it's almost common-place. A mini-skirt on a child! A piece of clothing which, since the sixties, has often been related and connected with female power, feminism, freedom and – nowadays at least – the provocativeness of flirtatious behaviour. It's almost as though you're placing a sign over the child reading "paedophile's welcome!" It's appalling. Yet it's still done without a thought.**_

_**And then there are parents who are so... hypocritical to complain when their children enter college and wear these skirts citing "You look like you're a prostitute!" Really? What do you think they looked like when they were wearing mini-skirts when they were six exactly? **__**The cute, huggable, none-rapeable kind of prostitute**__**? Absurd. Please, sometimes I just want to go up to these people, these 'parents' and tell them to dress their child appropriately. **_

_**I'm digressing from my initial reason for writing this. No real surprise there but he's going to be returning pretty soon and I have to get this point down. Fast.**_

_**To my dear parents, **_

_**I love you, how can I not? You are brilliant and divine and utterly unique. And most certainly not to blame for anything that has happened to me in my life. Everything that has ever happened to me is not of your choosing and so is not your fault; I know it's hard for you to think otherwise and I respect that you will naturally feel guilt but please, please, for my sake; believe me when I say you can never be to blame for anything and everything that has ever occurred for me. You are the best parents a far too intelligent, socially-challenged nightmare such as myself could have ever asked for. **_

_**It's a shame I'll never be able to say this to your faces but as long as you know...**_

_**I love you both. **_

_**Katrine xx**_

* * *

It was quiet. Too quiet for a silent, thoughtful and intensely observant man to not notice. But just because he noticed the quietness didn't mean he acknowledged it. It was all just sense-data, white noise, dispensable information that he didn't have to remember or analyse. The quiet was good in a way; it was less information for his mind to process. It also allowed him the illusion of privacy; if you ignored the peeping faces from the windows of the surrounding houses and the four SUVs which were parked on the curb with several people standing outside them.

But it was an illusion he appreciated nonetheless and so he continued on his way, slowly hobbling as the crutches he was using searched out for viable places to placed the majority of his body weight upon. In the distance he thought he could hear birds and cars; the birds sounded more tinny than the cars did which was just proof of how disconnected from nature he really was nowadays. He had to fix that. Definitely had to fix that.

It took a while – over ten minutes to be precise - and several rejections of assistance from those that had accompanied him, but he managed to reach what could be called the door to the house he intended to enter. It looked like it had seen better days, old and chipped and its colour was faded; and now that he could see the front door he realised that he could have figured out the man... the monster far quicker. But that makes no real sense to him because he's never been able to know people from a front door? He files away that little discovery for later on when he has time to be equally fascinated and freaked out by it.

Steadying himself on his crutches he reaches out with a slightly shaking hand and opens the door, listening to the squeaking and the creaking of the latch and the wood as they protest to be interacted with. He'd protest too if he was the only thing that stood between the world and hell.

It doesn't look like much, there's a strong smell of burnt wood, flesh and death in the air but he dismisses the smells; he's smelt it all a million times before and it doesn't get any better, worse or easier to deal with. It's the way the place _looks_ that gets him most of all. A part of him expected it to contain old magazines, bugs and cockroaches and for stale pizza and flat beers to be littered around the place. It's not exactly clean, not spick-and-span – which, if he's honest, would have terrified him even more – but it's far from a pig-sty. More like a moderate amount of chaos; almost as though the owner had visitors, guests on a regular enough basis to warrant the occasional spring-clean. He doesn't know why that bothers him, nor does he know why it's significant but it does and it is, and he moves on quickly from surveying what little he can see. Maybe the owner's bedroom is a 'pig-sty'? But he can't find out today because crutches and narrow stair-cases don't mix well.

As it is, where he's heading is a place he shouldn't venture until he doesn't require crutches to get around, but he's stubborn. If he wants to get down those stairs then he'll damn well get down those stairs; he just might end up as a heap at the base of them. It takes him a while to manoeuvre himself so that he can get down the stairs without falling down them instead; more time than he was willing to waste on such a task really. By the time he reaches the bottom of the concrete staircase he's sweating from the effort; it's more exercise than he's done in the last three months put together – excluding physiotherapy because that's just evil – and he's feeling it as his lungs burn and his legs protest from the movements and constant pressure on them. It hurts, but it's worth it because he's got a promise to keep.

And he'll be damned if he breaks another promise.

* * *

"Do you think it was a good idea to let him go in there alone?" Colby asked aloud, the question not directed at anyone in particular. He was watching the house but he could see the others out of the corners of his eyes. It had only been a few months since they'd all gone to hell and back – some closer to hell than others – and it had took its toll on them all.

"No." Gibbs answered without any hesitation before taking a sip of coffee from the coffee cup which seemed to always be present in his hand. He looked drawn and tired, his eyes older and more haunted than they had been a few months ago, but he had slight smile on his face and there was a lightness in his voice which had been missing for a while. He was healing from everything that had happened in his life so far, that much Colby could see.

Colby nodded even though Gibbs couldn't see him clearly from where he was standing but he knew that his silence would be taken as what it was; acceptance of the situation. That was one of the good things about military and marines; you didn't have to talk to actually 'talk'. But sometimes words did help a little.

"How long do you think he'll be?" Emily asked as she leant against the hood of the second SUV next to Hotch and JJ. She looked up at Hotch, expecting him to answer and was a little surprised when someone else did instead.

"It's Don. He'll be as long as he thinks he needs; and then a little bit longer to make sure he's fine." Charlie answered quietly as he stared at the inconspicuous house which had nearly become his brother's tomb. "I remember when we were kids; if he was ever upset about anything, he'd go off on his own in the garden for an hour to cool down before he'd come back and act like nothing had happened. I never used to understand why he did that; now I do."

* * *

Discarding his crutches at the door – what did his doctors know anyway? – Don managed to hobble across the cracked and crumbling slabs of concrete to the only part of the room which had any woodwork; which ultimately consisted of roughly a square metre or so of wooden flooring which obviously was underneath the dirt covering. Don didn't know why that was and he didn't care, he had a promise to keep.

Crouching down enough to allow him to place his hands on the floor next to the wooden flooring, Don positioned himself on the floor so that his legs were in as comfortable a position as he could possibly get them and reached over towards the wooden flooring. He gently pried at the nearest piece of wood until he could hear the slight creaking of the nails in it before tugging at it in earnest; he was caught by surprise when the wooden slate suddenly came free and he almost fell backwards as he tried to regain his balance.

Tossing the now loose plank of wood aside, Don focused his attention on another plank which came away quicker than the first one since all he had to do was loosen it enough to allow him to slide it out the way slightly. A few minutes of nimble finger work and Don was able to slip his hand through the gap in the flooring and search around for what he'd come looking for. His saw with his fingers in the small space, feeling the crumbled clumps of dirt and the splintered pieces of wood with his sensitive fingertips, and just when he thought that there was nothing there his fingers brushed against an entirely different texture. A smooth, soft, leather-like texture.

Sliding closer to the gap in the planks, Don reached in a bit deeper and gripped the object tightly and pulled it out of the darkness into the light. Wiping the dirt and dust off the cover of it, Don blinked furiously at the torrent of dust that he'd caused in his vigour. He stilled momentarily as he realised that he had what he'd come looking for.

Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, he carefully thumbed the book open onto the first page and immediately felt tears starting to well in his eyes. There, right in front of him was the hand-writing that he'd come to recognise during their last case and... in his dreams. Scruffy but elegant at the same time. Neat whilst completely chaotic. A living memory for a now dead thing.

"I suppose that whoever finds this book will be wondering what its purpose was." He read, his voice low and strained as it echoed around the damaged room. "This book. This book saved me in ways that nothing else could have, or ever will ever again. This book, is my soul laid bare and I ask – most likely from beyond the grave – that you treat my soul with care and respect... it is more fragile than I allow others to see." Don wiped away the tears that were freely rolling down his cheeks and continued to read aloud. "But. In the event that whoever has found this book isn't that nice – or is the chauvinistic pig who kidnapped me – then could you kindly place this book back where you found it and bugger off." Don hiccupped as he laughed at that. Politely insulting. So typical of her.

"I haven't fully held up my part of the bargain yet have I?" He asked aloud to no-one in particular as he smiled at the book. "But I will. I promised. You made me promise. So I will."

* * *

Half-an-hour after he'd entered the house, Don hobbled out looking tired, drawn, dusty but contented and determined. Charlie and Colby immediately moved over to him, recognising the signs of an imminent collapse but Don wasn't going to be carried from the house to the SUV; no way. They were both silent as they walked alongside him and the others began climbing back into the SUVS.

"Don?" Charlie dared ask, his voice quiet and uncertain as he looked his brother in the face. He fully expected his brother to tell him he was fine and leave it at that so he was surprised when Don answered him properly instead.

"I'm not alright Charlie... Chuck... but I will be... I will be." Don said softly as he passed his crutches to Colby who put them in the boot of the SUV in silence. Don smiled at his brother who nodded in response and he allowed Charlie to help him into the front seat of their SUV without complaint.

* * *

"Mr Quilks?" Don asked tentatively as he gripped the landline tightly, his knuckles white from the effort. "You don't know me sir but I... I was part of the group of people who were searching for your daughter."

"I... I'm so sorry for your loss..." Don blinked furiously and his face crumpled for a moment before he resolved himself and continued. "Before... Before your daughter died, she made me promise her something. She made me promise to g-give you a b-book she'd kept during her... kid-kidnapping."

Don smiled sadly at something that Mr Quilks said on the other end of the line. He looked over at Reid and McGee who were sitting in silence around the table watching the phone call. "I'm sitting with the other two agents who were with me when we found your daughter sir... do you want to- of course not. She made me promise to give you the book sir, and I intend to keep that promise." Don's voice took on a hard, determined edge to it. "Thank you sir. I'll have it mailed to you immediately. And sir. Thank you for raising such a brilliant young lady. She was... special."

Tears rolled down Don's cheeks but he didn't care, he knew Reid and McGee were trying desperately not to sob their eyes out as well. "Goodbye sir. And Godspeed to you as well sir."

He hung up the phone and wiped the tears away as he looked at Reid and McGee. They didn't need to say anything. None of them needed to speak. Today was the last day they'd probably see one another for quite a while and, whilst a part of Don was sad about that, a larger part of him was glad because he knew they'd only ever come back together if another sicko was out there and he didn't want that.

Without a word both McGee and Reid hauled themselves out of their seats, each of them careful and weary of their still healing injuries, and left the room. Don was left in silence looking down at the little book he'd dug out of the wreckage of the house of horrors. He took a breath and opened it again, starting on the first chapter.

_**I was born in the North West of England, in Lancashire, to a not-so-perfect family, but I wouldn't change them for the world. I didn't spend much of my childhood doing anything particularly unusual – except getting into skirmishes with older kids and the like – and I was never a trouble-maker in school. And the friends I have/had are the best you can possibly ever hope to have in your life...**_

* * *

**The End**


End file.
